The Wanting
by Tatiana K
Summary: Mircea, a new Death Eater, is furious that she is forced to keep an eye on Lucius, along with her other tasks. They are drawn to one another despite their distrust and animosity, and their lives are thrown into a spiral they cannot control. After a brutal tragedy, both begin to question which side they should be on and if they will be able escape with their lives. AU, Book 7
1. Chapter 1: Antagonism

_Mircea is pronounced MEER-sea-ah._

* * *

Wanting: 1) to feel a need or desire for something 2) not meeting expectations or requirements

* * *

**Chapter 1: Antagonism**

There was an explosion that sounded like thunder and the wall gave way.

Lucius Malfoy gasped aloud as the cold sea air hit his face. His naturally pale skin was grey in the light of the flames that licked the side of the building and he jumped back against his cell wall, dreading the foaming sea below.

He had been in Azkaban for ayear and he was a shrunken shell of himself, physically and mentally. The sudden explosions, the shouting: it was too much and too sudden for his introverted mind to take in. His natural cowardice combined with the ever-present fear of Azkaban caused him to sink to his knees in a corner of the cell. Shouts rang out and he could hear the sounds of dueling in the halls past his barred door.

So he could not help but gape when Severus Snape landed in his cell on a broom.

"Get on, Malfoy."

Lucius tried to get his limbs to work but could not. The suddenness and oddness of it all had him frozen in place.

"We haven't time for this," Severus hissed, hitting Lucius with a spell that moved him to the broom of its own accord. Malfoy's hands grasped the broom handle between himself and Severus and the latter kicked off.

He was out. He was free.

Lucius could feel the effects of the Dementors sliding off of him as they flew further from the accursed creatures. It had been so long since he had been able to think of anything other than his failures and how he had been wronged or had wronged others. Narcissa particularly had haunted him for a year. But he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

"Where are we going?" His usually refined voice cracked from lack of use.

"Your home."

Home. The word hit Lucius. It was hard to believe he still had a home to go back to.

"Is my son–?"

"Yes! Now shut up and hold on!"

But the flight, the shock, and the wear of Azkaban were getting to Lucius. He knew his grip was slacking and he could feel himself slumping against Snape despite his best efforts.

"Get off me, you idiot! You'll –"

But before Snape could say it, Lucius Malfoy plummeted from the broom.

* * *

"Mircea! Get down here!"

From the second floor study, a woman jerked her head off of a pile of books where it had rested. She yawned and tried to focus her eyes on the tome in front of her. A little house elf was tugging on her sleeve and she met its eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, archly.

"Master Snape needs you, miss. He called but you did not wake. Master Lucius is returned."

The woman was on her feet in an instant and pushing out of the room. She found Severus and Mr. Malfoy in the marble entryway.

"You haven't made it very far." The words were out before she could stop them and she winced, expecting a hex. But nothing came and she hurried closer.

Snape had laid the man out on the floor and was murmuring over him. The man – she assumed he was Mr. Malfoy – was tall, sunken, and pale. His hair she knew had been blonde but now looked grey. Cuts and scratches laced his exposed skin. As she watched, Lucius' muscles filled out somewhat and his face took on a healthier coloring. The thought that, even now, he had the potential for attractiveness, flickered through her mind. Snape sat back and immediately scowled at her.

"You were not moved here to be conveniently misplaced when you are needed," he snarled at her.

"You would know better than I, Severus," Mircea returned, sharply. "The Dark Lord has not yet deigned to tell me why I am here."

Snape stood and with a wave of his wand conjured a stretcher beneath Lucius, which then floated at about hip level.

"Well let me start you on your way. Lucius is in need of medical attention and you will care for him until morning. I assume that your nap will get you through the rest of the evening?"

She scowled and pulled her wand out of her sleeve.

"What happened to him? You know I'm not a healer."

"You'll manage; Dittany will suffice. He fell off the broom above the forests. I did manage to catch him before he hit the ground. As for the effects of Azkaban, don't bother. The Dark Lord was surprised he lasted this long," Snape drawled. Without another word he headed back out into the night.

Mircea suppressed a sigh. She had lived in the Manor for a month now and she did not know why she had to work here and not at any place of her choosing. She had been babysitter for the boy and now she was playing nursemaid to an Azkaban escapee. This was not why she had agreed to join the war this time.

With a flick of her wand, the stretcher floated ahead of her, gently making its way to the master bedroom.

* * *

"_Look Lucius. Your first Prophet."_

_Eagerly the wizard took the illicit paper from the jailer and flipped it to the front page. In bold letters were the words "Narcissa Black Seeks Marriage Annulment."_

_He did not want to read, but the fate of his marriage was contained in those letters, so he continued. _

"_After her husband, Lucius Malfoy, was sentenced to life in Azkaban, the former Mrs. Malfoy requested her marriage be annulled." _

_He growled and scanned the article looking for something useful. _

"_In the case of Azkaban inmates, divorce is not legally required and annulment is all but certainly granted to those who request it."_

_Lucius had been in Azkaban for a month and had never shed one tear but that night he wept. She had warned him that if he answered the call the night of Voldermort's return, that if he began all of this again, she would not go down with him. But she had stayed with him and he had loved her for it. However, what had made him love her more had made Narcissa resent him. _

_And now she would be gone. _

_Then there was the second paper. When the jailer had brought it, Lucius had attempted to refuse it. But the numbers in his neck had burned white hot and he had taken the paper. _

_This time the title read "Narcissa Black Among the Missing." _

_Lucius already knew she was dead. He had felt it somehow about a month after the annulment. You could not just walk away from the Dark Lord. _

_And both of these events ate at him for the following months, rooting themselves in his mind and growing into trees of insecurity and hurt. And the constant fear for his son. With no one looking out for Draco (Narcissa had tried to persuade him to run with her but he had refused, the article had noted) he was easy prey for the Dark Lord. Was he still alive? _

"_There's a third paper for you, Mr. Malfoy."_

"NO!"

Lucius sat up, shoving someone away from him and looking about the room wildly. His heart was pounding and a cold sweat prickled his skin. He was not in Azkaban. He was in his own rooms at the manor. How had he gotten here? The events of the night before broke through the haze caused by his dreams and he looked down to the person he had shoved.

A woman only a few years younger than him was standing up, hand to her bleeding lip. She scowled at him through dark eyes and with her free hand she pushed some loose curls out of her face. Her hair was the color of wet sand and thick with unruly curls, though piled up as tightly as possible.

"How long have you been here?" Lucius rasped, still wary, though her manner of dress and sleeves covering her forearms gave him pause.

"A month, sir."

"Who sent you?"

"You know who."

Lucius smiled quickly in spite of himself. Clever response. He also could not help but quirk his eyebrow at the accent with which she spoke. "Eastern Europe?" he asked absently.

She scowled more and did not reply.

"My apologies, I did not mean to hurt you."

Reaching for a small bottle she dabbed some of the liquid on her lip, which healed as they watched one another.

It dawned on Lucius that he was no longer wearing the uniform of Azkaban inmates.

"Did you dress me?"

She nodded, her face not showing any particular emotion. "You are not the first man I have seen naked. Don't think yourself special."

Lucius smirked. "Are naked men common in your line of work?"

But she continued her deadpan and her reply unsettled him somewhat: "We strip the clothing off of the dead. Waste not…"

Mircea was amused by the discomfort he gave away at these words. If she could reduce his pompousness early on, all the better for her.

"Well then, I have not had a meal or a bath in far longer than I care to remember. See to it that both are ready for me." He did not like the way his voice sounded and made a mental note to drink buckets of tea.

"In what order?" Mircea had to fight to keep from grinding her teeth; that was not what she had expected at all. She had been up all night with this man, who moaned and talked and thrashed, and after clubbing her in the face he was now ordering her about.

"Why not together? You can do that, surely?"

"I'll not be bringing them to you," she snapped.

A smile flickered across the convict's face, momentarily transforming his features. "If you insist."

Without waiting for any further instructions, Mircea quickly left the room, slamming the door behind her. In the hall a smaller and more delicately framed version of the man she had just left slammed into her.

"Damn it, Draco!" she barked at the boy. She yanked his pocket square free and used it to clean off her lip.

"Is he…is my father…?"

"He's up. He's fine! He's demanding breakfast and a bath!" Mircea fumed.

"Do you think–?"

"Go on!" She waved the white and scarlet pocket square in the direction of Lucius' door. "_Tergeo_!" The pocket square returned to it's pristine white and she stuffed it back in the boy's breast pocket. A small smile broke through her features and Draco, who was usually very guarded around her, did not stop himself from grinning back.

She turned and headed off down the hall. "Be warned, it may be a bit of a shock."

* * *

"A bit of a shock" was a definite underestimate and for layers of reasons.

To begin with, Lucius was without a shirt, which was akin to him being stark naked in Draco's mind. The least he had ever seen his father in was a shirt and waistcoat. And the lack of shirt only added to the general appearance of frailty. His father was bony and grizzled and looked so very unlike a Malfoy.

Lucius on the other hand could see how much his son had grown in his absence and it made him ache with sadness. He was a horrible father, surely worse than his own, which he hadn't thought entirely possible.

The two stared at one another.

Lucius' posture corrected itself subconsciously and he stood, holding the four-poster bed for support. He cleared his throat but before he could utter a word, his son flung himself against Lucius's chest, clinging tightly.

As he wrapped his arms around his son the realization that he could correct things, that he could still be a better father, brought tears to his eyes.

And the roughly spoken apology brought tears to Draco's eyes as well.

* * *

"He's coming tonight."

Lucius jerked around, and his eyes widened in terror.

"Surely he will understand –" Lucius began, attempting to push the fear down and out of his voice. He had only been free for less than a day, but his fear of the Dark Lord was much greater than his fear of the wizarding prison.

Snape rolled his eyes and took the glass of wine from Lucius. Though he did worry about his old friend, Snape knew it would be suicide to try to nurse him back into favor with the Dark Lord. The best he could do was to warn him of any vital information so he would not make things worse.

"It's not about you. Your home is a meeting place and has been for some months. Draco agreed to it in your absence with my counsel."

"Then what is it?" Lucius drank to steady his nerves and welcomed the sweetness and the warmth. His bath had been heaven itself after being physically and emotionally cold for so long. Without thinking he ran his hand through his thick hair, now blonde again and cut to a reasonable length. One hand or the other continually played with his wand, which Draco had hidden and returned to him earlier. It was like being reunited with a missing limb and its power was comforting.

"Mircea is being inducted into the Death Eaters tonight."

"Mircea?"

"The Romanian woman. She should have been around when you woke."

"She's a Death Eater?"

"Will be."

Lucius groaned and massaged his growing headache.

"What is it, Lucius?"

"I thought she was a maid."

Snape chuckled softly, which echoed in the empty room. "Is this talent for destroying every opportunity that crosses your path inherited or do you come by it in your own right?"

Lucius glowered back and drank more deeply.

"What exactly did you do?"

"I ordered her to get me a bath."

Snape's eyebrows escaped into his longish bangs and made no attempt to hide his bemused expression. "Oh, you are good."

Lucius opened his mouth to reply but stopped at the appearance of the very woman they were talking about. Without looking at either of them, Mircea wandered over to the bar and decanted a snifter of brandy. As she drank, she became aware of the men staring at her and turned to return their gazes.

"Can I help you? Would you like a _bath_, Mister Malfoy?"

"I'll pass," he drawled back. "You are aware that drink in your hand is from my private stores?"

"You are aware I have lived off of your private stores for the past month?" Mircea returned coolly. She sipped again, holding his grey eyes in her gaze.

"You may ask before dipping into my stores beginning today. Or you may put it back."

Her eyebrow quirked and slowly she let the liquid in her mouth pour back into the glass. Equally slowly, she set the glass back on the counter.

In return for her little stunt, Lucius looked her over more carefully, smirking as she blushed. She was skinny, pale, and had no chest to speak of. Her shirt covered her from neck to wrist and her skirts were gathered in thick folds in the back.

"Do you like what you see?" Mircea had been around men who were more impressive and much more dangerous than this has-been and she needed to get ready for the evening's procedures.

"Simply trying to assess why the woman before me is dressed as a nineteenth century Muggle governess."

Mircea bristled at the snobbery and fired back without thinking. "Better than a nineteenth century pimp."

Snape snorted loudly into his wine glass and smoothly stepped between the pair. "You two are well matched, are you not? Lucius, will you excuse us?"

Taking Mircea by the elbow, Severus led her out of the room. Once in the hall he silenced her angry comments.

"That is not the ideal way to begin with your host."

"He's a washed out Azkaban snob. He's _Ministry_ and he's loathsome." The way she said Ministry made it clear this was a particularly special insult in her mind.

"While you are here to make the world a better place and bring equality to all of the Mudbloods and Muggles."

"You know why I'm here," she hissed, coloring at the insult.

"You two aren't as different as you might like to think and it would be best to keep that at the forefront of your mind."

Mircea caught something in his tone. "What do you know that I don't? Tell me why I'm here."

"And anger the Dark Lord? Not bloody likely." He turned on his heel and swept away with finality.

* * *

Mircea rubbed her arm as she woke. The pain had been almost unbearable but she had held up and now a skull and snake was emblazoned on her left forearm.

There were only a few who knew, even among the Death Eaters, why she was now one of them. She had been brought in as a strategist; she had been known for this in Romania and during the first war had kept an entire village alive on the merits of her skill. But why hadn't she joined in the first war? And why was she now a Death Eater if she had not?

Mircea stared off at the ceiling of her room in the Manor. She had been answering these questions with one phrase: she now had certain motivations that had not been present in the first war, as well as a certain desire to see the Ministry of Magic reduced to a pile of rubble.

She forced herself to relax her expression. She needed to stop scowling all of the time or she would look like the rest of them did, with deep furrows or permanent leers. All but Lucius anyway.

_Probably the hair_, she though, smirking a little to herself. _What a peacock._

Sighing and rubbing at her arm without thinking, Mircea got out of bed. She had been promised that today she would be told her reason for being in this house.

* * *

"I simply do not see why my presence is required in announcing the role of the whelp," Lucius complained, following his sister-in-law all the same.

"You dare–?" she began in the crazed tone she was using more and more often.

"Oh do shut up, Bella. I'm here aren't I?"

He had made sure to time the comment perfectly with their entry into the ballroom and Bella only glared at him, not retorting for fear of looking foolish before the Dark Lord. Voldermort sat at the far end of the room, on a dais intended for a band, and three chairs were placed before him. Severus and Mircea, neither of which turned to look at him as he made his way across the long room, already occupied two of the chairs.

Lucius moved his chair farther from Mircea but the Dark Lord spoke quickly, in a soft but dangerous voice.

"Oh no, Lucius. Our guests of honor must be seated side by side. Do sit beside her."

Stiffly, Lucius did as he was told.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but why is _he_ here?" Mircea queried, legitimately surprised. A smile spread across the snake-like face and made her suddenly nervous.

"You have been very patient with me, my dear. I know you have waited with anticipation for your role in the great events that are to come. However, there were events that had to unfold before yours could truly begin. But now…" He smiled again. "Your place shall be twofold. First, you shall guide us in our endeavors – whom to use in overturning the Ministry and how to best capture and eradicate those who refuse enlightenment. This you already know, and your work has not let us down."

"I am truly flattered my Lord." Mircea noted with some pleasure that Lucius looked somewhat ill.

"Your second task, I must admit, will not be as rewarding but it simply must be done." Voldermort's eyes fastened on Lucius and Lucius felt pinned to his seat. "You are to keep Lucius Malfoy under your surveillance at all times. Under no circumstances is he to leave his home. You are responsible for preventing any further blunders our friend might make. He has done enough damage."

If Lucius was angry, it was nothing compared to Mircea. He could feel her shaking and her hands were in fists in her lap.

"My Lord, surely you understand how…" she searched for a word, "how difficult this is. It will be very counterproductive for my attentions to be so divided."

"Lucius knows better than to disobey a direct command. He will not give you trouble."

Fear and fury boiled up in Lucius as the situation became clear to him. Why had he been brought from Azkaban to be a prisoner in his own home?

"I have babysat the boy for a month only to learn that I am here to babysit the father?" Mircea's exclamation echoed around the room and settled uncomfortably on the four of them.

When Voldermort spoke again, his voice was dangerous and low.

"Yes."

Mircea's demeanor changed quickly and she stood slowly, still looking slightly shocked. "I see. Thank you, My Lord."

"My Lord, if I might speak to you," Snape cut in smoothly.

"Indeed, Severus. Let us find somewhere more private."

Lucius sat, stunned. He was a collared dog. He had been brought out of Azkaban to simply be humiliated while his home was used by any and all the Dark Lord chose. He heard Voldermort and Snape leave while Mircea remained standing beside him.

The door closed and their eyes met.

"The study," they said in unison.

"How do you know–?" Lucius began as they both moved as quickly as they could with as little noise as they could manage.

"I've lived here a month and Fenrir has a nasty habit of coming by unannounced. As does your sister-in-law."

"Ex-sister-in-law," he corrected mechanically.

"Apologies," she replied simply before hurrying down the hall in front of him.

Lucius was surprised; that would have been the perfect opportunity for a personal barb, and a very painful one at that, but she had passed it by.

The pair twisted through the halls until they reached a corridor. Mircea stopped in front of a door but Lucius grabbed her arm and pulled her further down the hall.

"There's a better spot. Come."

Huffily, she yanked her arm out of his grip and followed until he motioned for her to squeeze into a storage space.

"You must be joking."

"Yes, I have been in the habit of that as of late." And without waiting for her to comply he shoved her in.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Mircea hissed as he pressed against her, shutting them up in the dark.

"At the moment, you. Now hush!"

They were far closer than she liked, but she could not help but draw some comfort from his presence. She could feel his heart beating hard against her back and she realized it had been a very long time since she had any sort of physical contact with another person.

Mircea forced herself to focus her thoughts and she realized she could hear the conversation within the room fairly well.

"I simply wish to reiterate my hesitation at this plan, my Lord. I feel my concerns are even more justified after seeing them interact with one another."

"This is the best way, Severus. Mircea can manage him and he must be managed."

Mircea felt Lucius push at her, trying to put space between them. In the dark, she caught against something and realized a moment too late what would happen. The broom fell over with a loud clatter and the conversation in the study ceased.

Acting on instinct, Mircea grabbed on to Lucius and Apparated them as silently as possible.

* * *

"Get off me!" Lucius roared with anger, pushing at Mircea.

"I'm trying you ass!" she shouted back.

"Why of all the bloody places did you drop us in a bath?!"

"I think you know why!"

Mercifully the thing had been empty. But that was a small mercy and they wrestled with one another, each trying to get the other one off of them. With a little cry of frustration, Mircea's hand slipped and she collapsed on top of Lucius.

"Stop moving!" he roared and he was surprised when she did so. He lay still with her on top of him and planted his feet more solidly against the floor of the tub. She was so warm and she smelled so sweet and it made his head spin. It had been a long time since any woman had been on top of him, clothed or otherwise. His hands clamped on her shoulders, physically lifting and dropping her at the foot of the tub.

A ripping sound followed Lucius stepping out of the tub and Mircea stood quickly, looking at the long gash in her skirts.

"And here I thought they could not get worse," Lucius sneered, turning to leave.

Stumbling slightly, Mircea jumped out of the tub and began to punch at any part of him she could reach. She said nothing and her attack was short lived as even a post-Azkaban Malfoy was much stronger than her. He pinned her against the tile wall by her shoulders and his hollow face pushed close to hers.

"Attack me when my back is turned again and you will truly regret it."

He released her shoulders and stormed out of the bathroom.

* * *

Snape paused, certain he had heard a sound. The two men waited and when no sound followed they continued.

"My Lord, they are a toxic combination."

"And her dislike of him will motivate her success," Voldermort replied with patience. "He represents everything she hates."

Snape chose his words carefully, but refused to back down from the point he was trying to make. "Last night they exchanged words before she was added to our number. I am not concerned for their dislike, but rather for their potential attraction."

Surprise lighted on Voldermort's face. "Attraction?" There was a tone of amusement in his voice.

"Indeed. Lucius is a magnetic personality, regardless of his wealth or success, and Mircea is sympathetic by nature. That is how we have obtained her. To combine them so constantly raises a real danger of attraction, or at the very least commiseration."

The snake like face took on an expression of consideration. After a moment he nodded to himself. "I understand your concern, Severus, and I appreciate as always your attention to ensuring our success. I believe they can be kept at one another's throats for as long as necessary. After all, who knows how long Lucius Malfoy really factors into our plans?"


	2. Chapter 2: Led Up the Garden Path

**Chapter 2: Led Up the Garden Path**

Mircea had avoided Lucius for two solid days. She was furious that this was even happening. This did not temper her dislike for him at all.

But after two days, Lucius was becoming restless and he was determined to at least make it onto his own grounds. The darkness and quiet echoes of the Manor reminded him of old ghosts, from prison and from his life before. He and Draco had spent a day packing some and burning some of Narcissa's old things and there was a place on the grounds that Lucius had always visited to clear his mind.

Mircea was curled in a large armchair in one of the many sitting rooms that dotted the manor when a long hand yanked her book out of her grasp. Jerking her head around she saw Lucius Malfoy toss the book onto a nearby sidetable. He was better groomed than he had been since her arrival and she could not help but notice a deliberate looking five 'o clock shadow.

"What the _hell_ do you want?" she growled, turning back to look at the wall in front of her.

"We're leaving. I need to get some air."

Smirking, she stood and turned to face him. "It's so cute that you think I care. We leave when I am ready and not a moment before."

"Your job–"

"Is to keep you out of trouble. Not to tour about with you at a moment's notice."

Lucius saw the flaw in her argument and closed the space between them with one long stride. "And should I happen to go about on my own and manage to get myself into some trouble? Surely you would not be held personally responsible for this."

Mircea repressed the urge to step back and moved so close to him that they were nearly touching. His voice was liquid silk and it sent chills down her spine. And those grey eyes… she had never had anyone look at her with such intensity.

"Fine," she hissed. "You _will_ give me a moment to gather some things and you _will_ meet me in the entry hall. I assume you can make it that far without sending your miserable life into chaos?"

For the first time since they had met, she could see Lucius had clearly lost his cool. His jaw tightened and she could see a vein in his temple start to tick under the tight skin.

He swept out of the room and she smirked at his back.

* * *

Outside, the June sun beat down on them, humidity rolling off of the lawns. Lucius could hear Mircea cursing the British weather and when he turned to riposte the words caught in his mouth. Her hair was getting frizzier, if at all possible, and her face was now surrounded by a halo of short springy curls bursting free from her French twist.

"I see why you were reluctant to leave," Lucius drawled, his voice heavy with amusement.

"One of several reasons, I assure you," she quipped back at him.

Lucius fought the urge to pull and release one of her curls; it was so tempting because he was sure it would spring back like elastic. But he was also sure she would blow off his arms and beat him with them. Besides, it was highly unrefined and far too personal.

Lucius turned back to the grounds and was surprised to find that his lawns and gardens looked better than they ever had before. He led them towards the shrubbery maze, hoping that his favorite haunt had been left unchanged.

"Who has been managing the estate in my absence?" he asked, without turning to look at Mircea.

"I have. The whole place was overgrown and wretched, and your son did not seem to be managing well."

Mircea watched Lucius follow a certain pattern of lefts and rights and then stop before a long green hall; it was an arbor of green ivy with a black iron bench in the center of it. As they walked through it, Mircea did not dare to take her eyes off of him and she saw that Lucius seemed to relax. He breathed deeply and his shoulders relaxed. Mircea was simply grateful it was much cooler in the shaded area.

Lucius sat on the bench and Mircea stood, watching him with a hawklike expression, before slowly sinking onto the furthest edge of the bench. She had no intention of standing before him, but she did not wish to sit beside him either.

"Narcissa –" Lucius began. He cut off and looked away from Mircea. She lowered her wand slowly and he coughed to clear his throat. His reaction to his own mention of his dead wife surprised her; she hadn't expected him to be so affected by a woman who had left him without any attempt to communicate with him.

"Narcissa," he continued, a more snobbish tone now lacing his voice, "could never manage the grounds. It always took an absurd amount of money."

Mircea scoffed and sat down again, toying with her wand in her hands. Lucius noted the wood it was made of; he felt as though he could place it eventually but the name did not come to mind immediately. The handle was delicately carved to look like long thorns wrapping around one another.

"Your wife was unwilling to use house elves. I would assume human labor is more fashionable?"

"Not all of us find the need to be as pointedly high minded as you."

"And some of us manage to keep ourselves out of Azkaban with our high mindedness."

Lucius turned to her, his jaw tight again. "And what do you know about this? You work on 'ideas.' Death Eaters get our hands dirty and we bleed. But you?" He scoffed loudly. "Go back to your charts, witch, and leave the real work to those of us who can handle it."

Lucius was surprised to see the same expression she had worn when they had first met take over her countenance: distant and infinitely old. She stood very pointedly and faced him for a moment. Slowly, she put her left foot on the bench and even more slowly she drew up her skirt. A gruesome and very appalling scar began at the inside of her left knee and wrapped around the back of her leg, disappearing up toward her hip. Her skin was rice paper white and the scar stood out nearly purple in the June heat, cleaving a valley in her flesh where it had healed too tightly.

She let her skirts drop and stood in front of him, the cool look of utmost age undisturbed.

"I seriously doubt you know the first thing about what I am cut out for, Mr. Malfoy. I have fought, I have killed, and I have been tortured. What you should ask yourself is how I have surpassed you, with all of your title and all of your pride. I will be leaving now and I can only hope that you come to some sort of grizzly end between here and the manor so that I may be free of you."

Lucius felt a combination of distaste and shock as he watched her leave. He had to admit he didn't really know the first thing about her other than she rubbed him the wrong way. But he would choke her with his bare hands if she kept insulting his Azkaban sentence. It was the glaring flaw in his life, a huge black spot on what he saw as an otherwise glorious gold page. And she gave the feeling that she was mocking him with knowledge he did not have, as if she knew what would come of him.

* * *

"Master Lucius would like to ask you to accompany him for dinner, Miss Elaide."

The little house elf had Mircea's attention in a moment. Another full day had passed and the pair had avoided one another very obviously.

Maybe he's bored and looking for a fight, Mircea thought wearily.

"Tell him I will be there."

* * *

Lucius had just taken his place at the grand table when the door opened again and Mircea entered. Their eyes met and each could not help but admire the other's appearance.

Mircea wore an empire-waist skirt, which flattered her figure immensely, and a cropped jacket that reached to just below her ribs. Lucius had pulled his hair back in a sleek ponytail, drawing the powerful structure of his face into sharp relief. Tighter, riding-styled pants drew more attention to his broad shoulders as well.

"I am glad you agreed to join me. Unfortunately, Draco is visiting Knockturn Alley and will not be joining us."

He motioned and a chair across from him slid out for her. She sat gently as the chair was pushed magically in for her and she let a little smile show.

"Quite the gentleman," Mircea said quietly.

"I assure you I can be quite charming if I desire."

The food chose this moment to appear and Mircea's possible snide remark was buried under surprise. A large plate of roast lamb was set before them with golden, crisp potatoes and shining black olives.

"I'm… surprised," she said. "Thank you."

Slowly they both piled their plates with food, each trying to not show the other how hungry they were. Mircea had been kept so busy until Lucius arrived that she had hardly had any time for a real meal. Lucius had eaten since Azkaban but he had been smart enough to work up to a meal like this. The sight of this much food, though it was much smaller than even family meals from before he had left, made his pulse pick up with excitement.

Mircea began to eat, aware that Lucius was watching her out of the corners of his vision.

"I do not recall you being in Slytherin during my time there, and I do not presume you to be so much younger than myself."

It was a question, laid out as a statement and Mircea gave a slightly derisive laugh.

"You Britons and your Hogwarts. I was never in Slytherin, nor any other house of that school."

"Then which…?" Lucius was curious, but still loathe to show how much. He was nosy by nature and she had piqued his interested with her scar.

"Yjubeladiv Institution of Sorcery and Mysticism. I was in Merwiel house, the equivalent, I think, to your Ravenclaw."

Lucius nodded, forcing himself to continue eating slowly. Mircea had been invited as a safeguard; he would not gorge himself in front of her and she could distract him. He was trying his very best to not be an ass to keep her there.

"I am familiar with the school. Wervial is the Dark house?"

"Distinctions are not made as sharply as they are in Hogwarts. There are some in every house. The houses are not by character but by talents."

"No doubt also due to the propensity for Dark Magic as well." The words were out before he had thought about the effect they would have on her. Mircea's face tightened up again and she looked daggers at him.

"Oh yes. We're all just fodder for the Death Eater cause."

Lucius gave a loud snort. "You do realized what that mark on your arm is, do you not?"

"I _chose_ to be here. I am _not_ here because I could not help it."

Lucius placed his hands flat against the table and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to continue fighting with her. Mircea noted the action and bit back further comment. She had no idea why he had asked her to dine with him but she could make an effort if he could. They were stuck together no matter what so they may as well make some attempt at civility.

Their plates were removed and a cobbler was brought out along with cream liquor. Mircea decided she should make some attempt at conversation as well.

"I have not been able to help but notice the family portraits in the east wing. You look remarkably like your father."

Lucius quirked his eyebrow at her. "He thought I was far too skinny. Not broad enough in the shoulders. And he preferred… almost everything I had no interest in."

"I would imagine. He looks like he would have been a powerful man."

Before Mircea could correct what she knew to be a thoughtless comment, Lucius pounced. "Do continue." His jaw was tight again. "You have known me all of a week and you apparently find yourself to be an authority on my character. How bold!"

Mircea slammed her cutlery onto the table, gaining his attention instantly. "And you do not? You presume to know the sympathies of an entire population!"

"And never for one moment have you proved any of my presumptions to be wrong."

"You arrogant peacock!"

"How dare you–"

"Because you may be damn fine to look at but you're nothing better than an over glorified chicken! You go after my lack of involvement in the first war but you ran as soon as the odds were no longer in your favor, you Judas!"

"Uninvolved is as good as fighting for the Ministry, you traitor!"

He was stunned to see her turn white and go for her wand. He froze, realizing the fight had now reached an entirely new level, sparked by his comment.

"Never. Call me. A traitor," she hissed through gritted teeth. "My blood's no less pure than yours and I serve the Dark Lord. It's enough proof that I haven't relieved you of the weight of your empty head."

Lucius knew when to back down even if he wanted to slap her. "Very well," he murmured, raising his hands slightly to show no intention of drawing his wand. "I assume you can find your own way out."

Mircea breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down. It was hard for her to remember that no one here knew about her family. Without meeting Lucius's eyes she nodded and left quickly, accidentally slamming into a chair in her haste to leave and not stopping to pick it up.

Lucius made a mental note to never again call her a traitor. She had left his wife out of any conflict they had ever had and he owed her this much. He sat heavily, his heart racing and his hands clenching and unclenching.

In a sudden motion and with a roar of pent up fury, Lucius Malfoy swept the table of all it's contents, glass and metal crashing to the floor. Wrapping a bleeding hand in a napkin, he could hear a woman's frustrated scream also tearing through the other wing of the Manor.

* * *

"I require your assistance."

"Piss off."

Mircea had become more and more openly rude with Lucius since the failed dinner. Neither was willing to admit the cause of their problems lay deeper than their personality conflicts and neither was willing to give an inch after every one of their encounters had resulted in a fight.

"That's a bit crass, even for you."

She flicked him off and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. He was developing a tick that he knew she caused and his hand lightly touched the twitching temple.

"Mircea…"

That got her attention. He had deliberately avoided calling her by her name as long as possible, knowing the use would give him an edge when he needed it. He watched her slowly set her book on a sidetable and cross the room to stand beside him.

"What is it you want?"

Mircea had been telling herself that this was no way to behave. They would have to learn to get along at some point or just kill one another and be done with it. She met his steel grey eyes and could feel herself color slightly in spite of herself. He looked straight into her eyes as if she were the only person on whom he wanted to focus attention. She knew it was a trick of his upbringing but still…

Lucius lost what he was going to say momentarily. How had she learned to blush like that? It was distracting.

"I need someone with a smaller frame to help me reach a box in one of the linen closets."

"Your son has a nice womanly build. Surely you can find him?"

"You were closer at hand."

Mircea sighed. "Fine. Then leave me in peace."

"You have my word."

Lucius led her through the hall to a small closet she had noticed between the master suites. "That long box, in the back corner. My arm will not fit."

Shuffling her skirts, Mircea fit easily into the space and turned to hand the box back to Lucius. Instead she found herself facing a closed door. Rolling her eyes, Mircea tried to Apparate. Nothing happened.

Cold anger swept through her. "What _is_ this?"

"An Apparation Block. Many old magical homes have them. The cellars happen to be one as well. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an outing to make. Someone should find you eventually I would think."

Mircea screamed every obscenity she could think of as she listened to his footsteps retreat. She was trapped and she had walked right into it! She had taken him at his appearances and it was entirely her own fault. If he did anything stupid it would be on her head and here she was trapped in a closet.

She slid down to the floor and listened as carefully as she could. Someone would come by eventually and she would be ready.

* * *

Fenrir Greyback was on the prowl for the delicious Romanian woman who now lived in Lucius's Manor. It had been a while since any fresh blood had been added to the Death Eaters, let alone a fairly young female. Usually it was men and crones.

Something silver darted by him and he drew his wand quickly. But it was only a Patronus. The silvery mongoose sat upright on its back paws and chattered angrily before speaking in Mircea's voice.

"Lucius has locked me in a closet! Get me out NOW!"

The werewolf followed his own nose, though the mongoose led him most of the way there. She had a particular smell like a pine forest and he found her quickly.

As soon as the door was open she burst out of it, cursing and flailing in her anger, like a cat out of a sack.

"Hizzy!" she shouted, ignoring Fenrir completely.

There was a crack and the head House Elf stood before her.

"Your master will not be returning tonight. Close the gates and let none enter."

The little Elf looked worried and alarmed. "Master Lucius gave orders to leave the gates open for him, Mistress."

"I am Malfoy's keeper and my decisions supercede his own. He will not be returning. Close the gates."

The Elf wrung its hands and nodded, disappearing again.

"Miss Elaide," Fenrir began, but she cut him off with a wave.

"I'm sorry, Fenrir, but I have a day's worth of work to do in one evening. However, to thank you for your assistance, feel free to help yourself to any and all of Master Lucius's stores. Harm none of the elves though. The Dark Lord does not want money wasted on replacing them."

Mircea took off down the hall, leaving a grinning Fenrir in her wake.

* * *

Lucius returned to the Manor sometime around one in the morning, slightly tipsy and in much better spirits. He had gotten that interfering and shrewish witch out of his hair for a full day and he had simply enjoyed the freedom. Lucius had been smart enough to keep well out of sight, knowing that the Ministry had not reported the breakout.

As he approached his gates, he was shocked to see them twist into the menacing face reserved for strangers. He made the entrance gesture but the face grated out its familiar question of purpose instead of yielding to him.

"I am Lucius Malfoy, master of this house, and I wish to enter my home."

"You shall not," the face rasped in its metal voice.

In disbelief, Lucius approached the gate and found himself being lifted by a arm shaped from the metalwork and thrown bodily back up the lane. He lay in the dirt, feeling a cut on his cheek and not daring to approach. He knew what the result of a second attempt would be.

To his astonishment, a staggeringly drunk Fenrir passed through the gates as if they were smoke and took note of him lying in the lane.

"She was so pissed," he laughed, leering at Malfoy. "All the better for me that I found her."

"And you drank how much of my spirits?"

"I relieved you of a full bottle of aged whiskey if that's what you are asking,"

Lucius wanted to tear into him but the werewolf's teeth already looked menacingly sharp and he did not wish to test him. A glance at the night sky told him that the full moon was a few days away.

"And she said to give you this." With a flourish Fenrir pulled off the cloak he was wearing and handed it to Malfoy. "It's supposed to get cold tonight."

With a crack the werewolf disappeared and Malfoy was left alone in the night. He stared at the cloak in his hands and realized there was not an obscenity strong enough for his dislike for this witch. She had planned this as well as he had planned his own 'attack'; it was dangerous for him to spend the night anywhere other than his own home so he had no choice but to sleep in the lane. No Death Eater would welcome him after the Dark Lord's recent treatment of him and explaining why he was locked out of his Manor would include his own disobedience.

Curling up under the hedges as well as he could, Lucius Malfoy, once the most influential man in the Ministry, curled up and tried to sleep.

* * *

Stiff and freezing, Lucius woke early the following morning, covered in dew and dirt. His sunken grey eyes landed on the open gates and he was on his feet quickly. Aching from head to toe, he started out at a determined stride.

Mircea was dressing when her bedroom door blew open and rough hands shoved her viciously from behind. Suppressing a shriek, she caught her balance and avoided falling. Grabbing her bathrobe she threw it on and she whirled on Lucius.

"What the _hell_ is your _problem_?!"

Lucius had hoped to catch her off guard but he had not expected what he had seen. She had been in only her undergarments and along her right arm, stretching almost to her throat, was another horrendous scar like the one on her leg. This certainly explained why she wore only clothing that covered almost all of her.

"You locked me out of _my own house_ and let a _werewolf _loose on my cellars!"

"You shut me up in a closet! You started this!"

There was a space of time when neither spoke, and then Mircea's hand flew out toward him. Lucius flinched but when no blow fell he noticed she was simply holding her hand out to him.

"What is this?"

"A truce. Either we just kill one another here and now or we call a truce. But neither of us can continue like this and you know it."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at her. "I will still despise you."

"And I'm still hoping you'll be mauled by a hippogriff. But if you'll not lure me into closets and just let me do my job, I'll go where you want. I'll even try to look like I want to be there if that's what you desire."

Lucius had to admit this was probably the best he could hope for. He couldn't actually kill her and she couldn't change the circumstances they were in.

Mircea felt his large square hand take hold of hers in a warm and powerful grip. "When would you like breakfast?" His voice took on a new, smoother tone and he looked her in the eyes when he spoke to her.

"At your convenience, Mr. Malfoy." Mircea tried to smooth her own tone as well, to talk as she would to a friend, or at least someone she didn't hate.

"In an hour then. I find I am in need of a bath."

Lucius turned to leave. His hand was on the handle of the door when he heard her speak again.

"That does rather seem to be a reoccurring theme between us."

He paused, not bothering to turn or show he had heard her, but an easy smile darted across his lips before he left her room.


	3. Chapter 3: Exchange of Favors

**Chapter 3: Exchange of Favors**

Mircea and Lucius had made a good show of tolerating one another for an entire week. As it was now in the midst of one of the hottest months of the year, Lucius had even agreed to postpone walking the grounds until later in the evening. Mircea was actually getting work done (currently plans for the overturn of the Ministry) and the Dark Lord was very pleased with the progress of his plans. And if Mircea knew nothing else, she knew it was vital that he be pleased.

She had also begun teaching Draco strategy. He had been reading over her shoulder one evening and had surprised her by asking if the Queen's Sacrifice really worked. Her own disbelief that anyone did not know the effectiveness of this basic strategy had lead to a discussion, which then led to a sort of mini-class. Draco seemed to believe that if you proved yourself to be superior in measurable power and wealth then the upper hand was granted to you. She had gradually beaten it into his head that this could never be more untrue, using his own family as the painful testimony to this. It was a distraction but it was not one she minded; the boy was a worthwhile pupil after he had been humbled somewhat and she enjoyed explaining and mapping out the different theories and tactics.

It was during one of these lessons that Lucius approached him with his most absurd idea yet.

"I wish to go to Knockturn Alley."

Both Mircea and Draco stared at him openly before Mircea actually laughed and went back to what she had been explaining before.

"I will go, with or without you. As it will fall on your head, it seemed fitting to tell you."

Glowering, Mircea told Draco it might be best if they finished later and the boy left quickly. "I thought we were past all of this."

"This is different. I have certain items I must sell."

"So I'll sell them for you. No one knows me so it cannot hurt."

"Bourgin will not trust anyone but myself. I must be the one to arrive with them."

Mircea rubbed at her temples, suppressing her bad temper. "You do realize the Ministry has not reported the breakout? For all intents and purposes, you are in Azkaban. You cannot just walk into Knockturn Alley."

"I shall."

"We cannot remove you from this place."

"You cannot remove my face, but as any other, you may."

"But Polyjuice takes quite some time —"

"And I have been working on it for quite some time. It is now ready."

He could feel her analyzing him, her almond shaped eyes boring into him, and he met her gaze. He just needed her to go along with it. Surely she was as bored and claustrophobic as he was.

"And who exactly will you be?" she asked, not giving consent or refusal.

Lucius pulled three black hairs from a vial in his pocket. "Severus Snape."

* * *

Mircea looked him over after he had taken the potion, which he claimed tasted like smoke. In her arms she carried Transfigured robes, which she tossed at Lucius before walking to the other end of the room and turning her back to him.

"You will afford me no privacy?" he drawled, now in Snape's deep tones.

"In a room with a fire and Floo and you with another face? I'm not an idiot. Dress."

A grin spread across his face. "If you wanted to get me alone and undressed all you had to do was ask."

"Oh don't flatter yourself. It's Severus I'm _dying_ to see."

He chuckled at her sarcasm and she felt herself lighten up slightly. Once he was dressed she looked over the robes. "They're still off... Let me fix them."

"With me in them?" Lucius sounded alarmed.

"Would you rather be naked?" she shot back.

"Fine. Fine." Lucius held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and she pulled her wand out of her sleeve.

"You've got to stop moving or I'm going to stab you," Mircea grumped at him, concentrating as she guided the spell across the hems of the robes. Magical sewing had never been her forte.

"I'm surprised you've waited this long, to be honest."

Lucius watched a smirk grow across her face and she did not answer him. She finished sewing and walked around him. "You _must_ blend in," were the first words out of her mouth.

"Don't sound so scolding. I haven't done anything yet."

"Use the word 'yet' again and you'll be staying here."

Pushing away his annoyance, he looked calmly at Mircea. "Ready then?"

"Where exactly it is that we are going?"

"Hocus and Hoax."

"Seriously? Someone named their store such a thing?"

"I did not so spare me, if you please. I'll go first."

She gave him a look, still unable to trust him and he raised his right hand in a gesture of honesty. He disappeared through the burst of green flame and she followed close behind.

When she opened her eyes, she was quickly aware of "Snape" in the corner of her vision, busily disappearing into a crowd. Her fists clenched in anger and she ground her teeth. Of course. What else could she expect from a low, cowardly snake?

In her anger and need for action, she tried to run after him. She was immediately reminded that she was, in fact, in a fireplace with a grate as she tripped over said grate. The metal caught her right along the shins, and, while it did no harm, she fell forward into the busy lane. Tumbling forward she felt herself slamming into a much bigger wizard and swearing loudly at him. The wizard's eyes flashed and he grabbed her by the shoulders before throwing her away from him and into a corner where two stores joined.

Lucius began to bolt when he saw her curly head appear in the grate, ready to leave her behind. He had no intention of staying with her and she could fend for herself. But the shrill sound she made stopped him in his tracks; he had never heard her make such a sound before but something in his gut told him that it was her. As Lucius, turned he saw her forehead connect with a window sill. She toppled over into a large puddle and did not move for a few moments. Lucius told himself she had faced worse and that she was a more than competent witch, but when she tried to stand she lost balance and ended up sitting on the ground. A crimson smear was blooming on her forehead and running into her sandy hair.

The man who had thrown her was starting to shout at her, but Lucius could not hear his words; there was a loud roaring sound in his ears. His quick temper blazed into life, carrying him away with it. This was not how a Death Eater or a Pureblood woman ought be treated.

Mircea saw, in a tilted and slanted sort of way, Lucius-as-Snape storming up behind the man, grab him, spin him around, and punch him full in the face. It could almost have been comical if the man hadn't been much bigger than Severus Snape. What might have been a forceful blow in Lucius's original body was not nearly as effective in his current form and the man stared at him in disbelief, hand to his bruising jaw. Knowing Lucius was about to get a thrashing, Mircea managed a rather well aimed stunning spell, which was impressive considering things still tilted and slanted when she tried to focus on them. Any stragglers who had been watching cleared away quickly as the man crashed into some rubbish bins; no one wanted to be around when the authorities showed up to break up the fight.

"Come! Mircea, move!"

Shaking his right hand to try to ease the stinging of his bleeding knuckles, Lucius took Mircea's hand in his left one. He pulled her to her feet but she lurched forward and fell into his arms. She could hardly walk in a straight line.

"How on earth did you survive this long?" he asked nastily.

"By avoiding you, apparently!" she retaliated. "If you hadn't tried to run away, this would not have happened! Worthless coward!" Mircea saw him flush a little and felt somewhat vindicated.

"Which is why I bloodied my knuckles for you, you stupid woman!" he snarled back at her.

Ears still slightly red, Lucius caught the sound of whistles in the distance. He looked her over efficiently and he quickly scooped her up in his arms before she could protest, not that she waited long.

"Put me down!"

"And let you walk?" he snorted in reply. She felt too unstable to argue with his logic. Giving in, she slipped her arms around his neck and let her head droop against his chest.

As Lucius carried her, a task made much harder by Severus's weaker body, he could feel his clothes being soaked through with the mud and water from her dress and he shivered. He could now see just how stupid this idea had been. For all intents and purposes, Severus Snape had just decked a man and was now carrying a woman around: two more unlikely acts could hardly be found.

Mircea began to protest again when he carried her out into Diagon Alley. "We should go the other way."

"I know full well where I am," he snapped at her.

She found herself sitting in an apothecary with Lucius barking an order to the witch at the counter. He was handed a bag of small lily pad shaped herbs and Mircea found herself being carried away again. Lucius's pulse jumped and she blushed when her lips brushed his neck as he shifted his hold on her and Mircea would have died rather than admit it, but she found him carrying her to be…galant.

Lucius finally set her on a bench, and Mircea watched as he took two of the little lily pads from the bag and began to chew them slowly. Sitting beside her, he very gently lifted her hair away from her face, dividing it back from the cut, and began to place the chewed leaves along the cut in her scalp. She started to jerk away from him but his grip on her shoulder was firm. He continued pasting the chewed leaves along the cut and Mircea felt the pain seep from the gash on her head. Her thoughts cleared and she looked at him wonder.

"What is that?"

"Piqurek Leaves," Malfoy explained, stiffly. "It's a very fast healing agent for minor injuries."

Mircea nodded, knowing she had a tube of the paste knocking around somewhere at the Manor. But she had never seen the actual leaves before.

"That's your specialty, isn't it?"

An expression that was pure Malfoy took over "Snape's" features, and she smirked in spite of the situation. Knowing the leaves needed a while to work fully, Lucius decided to answer her.

"Indeed. My family long owned an apothecary. It… stopped when I left, but it has always been of the highest quality."

Mircea nodded then took some leaves out of the bag and popped them into her mouth.

"What I applied should be sufficient," Lucius tried to explain.

Mircea just nodded and then took his right hand in both of her own. He began to jerk away but she tightened her hold on it. Her eyes dropped and she began to apply the leaves to the busted knuckles.

"You do not need –" he began, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

But she cut him off. "As you say, you bloodied your knuckles for me. You have my appreciation…Lucius."

That was the first time she had really deliberately used his first name and her accent gave it a different, deeper quality than the bored tones of the English. He rather liked hearing her say it.

After she had finished with his hand, Mircea aimed a cleaning spell at both her skirts and his own clothing, whisking away mud and water expertly.

"Things should have died down by now," she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"We need to get you a new dress first. You stand out."

Mircea gave him a "look" but didn't fight him. In an almost bored fashion, she flicked her wand at her skirts. Lucius watched as the dress slimmed and the sleeves changed to long dark gloves reaching to the newly short cape sleeves.

When she looked up, she could clearly see "Snape's" eyebrows jump.

"What?" she bit at him.

"Not every emotion of mine is negative, believe it or not. Let me look at your head." Again, with very gentle fingers he pulled away the leaf-paste and a pink fresh scar graced her forehead, just below her hairline. Pulling a pocket square from his vest, he wiped away the blood that stained her hairline and then did the same for his hand. "Keep your hair over it until it looks less fresh. Wouldn't want the Dark Lord asking too many questions."

"You mean other than 'Why did you punch that bloke in Diagon Alley, Severus?'"

"Yes, well, you'll think of something."

"Me! Why me?!"

He stepped back and rubbed the paste off of his hand. "Because it's your job. Come on."

It was no small mercy that they were able to get through the rest of their trip without further incident. The Polyjuice wore off just when they arrived, with Lucius blossoming out of Severus's body and tearing through the robes. Obviously this shocked Bourgin but the explanation was simple enough and he was happy to hear it. It was a surprising relief to see Lucius as himself. She could read the cold face and the piercing eyes, even if the emotions were so often anger or frustration.

The repercussions of their little outing did not come down on them until two days later. They both happened to be at dinner, now habitually taken together in the hauntingly big dining hall, when Severus Snape blew into the room like a tornado.

"Do explain to me, Mircea, why I am credited with bashing a man in the face on _your_ behalf?" he snarled, pulling her bodily out of her chair.

Lucius watched her closely this time; he saw her muscles tighten as Severus approached, ready to move, and saw her pull her wand out of her hair after Snape grabbed her out of the chair. In only a few moments, Snape had her wand aimed at his large nose. Lucius sat back in his chair with a smirk.

"If you wish to talk to me, then talk. But the next time you lay a hand on me you will lose it."

Snape's eyes smoldered at her but he gave a short nod of agreement. Her wand disappeared back into her hair, but Lucius knew it would be somewhere else tomorrow; she never kept it in the same place twice.

"Do you realize what you have done?" Snape hissed at her. "Do you realize what could have happened?"

"I do. You know I do."

"And you left with this _idiot_ in my guise?"

The insult made Lucius bristle and he was on his feet in a moment.

"I did."

"And what would possess you to do such a thing?"

"I am not to be made prisoner in this house!" Her voice rose to a shout and it rang through the hall. "If I cannot leave without him then I will leave with him!"

"You would argue with the Dark Lord's direct orders?"

"No. I _would_ argue with _you_." Her tone changed quickly. "Severus, he was your _friend_. If he wishes to leave his own home, why should he not?"

"The last time he 'left his own home' he managed to get himself dropped in Azkaban."

"And if he was such a liability, maybe you should have left him there. If I shall be held personally responsible for every failure we retrieve, I can assure you the Ministry will be left completely in your capable hands."

Lucius had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, even if they talked about him as if he were not in the room. He needed these negotiations to work.

Snape measured up Mircea. The Dark Lord had been very clear about her value and the need to keep her happy enough to continue working.

"Very well. You disguise him how you will but if my face leaves house on any body but mine, the Dark Lord will hear of it. You'll pay with your own neck, witch."

Not until the black cloak disappeared through the door did Mircea unclench her fists. She sunk wearily into her chair and began to rub her temples.

She had bargained for his right to leave the Manor even after their escapade had resulted in a blow to the head and after he had abandoned her. Like it or not, Lucius could feel some of his resentment for the witch slipping away.

* * *

Certain figures had become more and more common in the Manor and conflicts were bound to arise given who these figures were. The Dark Lord arrived almost daily now and with him came Bellatrix. The merest hint of her presence sent Lucius into his study or the rooftop greenhouse for the rest of the day; she blamed him exclusively for Narcissa's death and she was a terror under the best circumstances. And then there was Fenrir. The favoritism Mircea had showed in order to upset Lucius was now coming back to bite her. He frequently hung about the Manor looking for her, following her about if he found her.

It was on one of these occasions that Mircea earned her own personal brand of dislike from Bellatrix.

The Ministry coup was organized to the smallest detail, but Mircea needed to map out the movements of the night staff and any significant rooms or persons who might get in the way of the quick and efficient takeover. She had been working on a map that would trace and label the people within the building over every inch and for every moment that they were in the building. It had been a massive undertaking, mainly because of the size of the building and the sheer number of people within it.

Hours and hours had gone into the map and she had gone so far as banning Lucius and Draco from the dining room when she had the map there. She had promised to personally damage anyone who harmed the map as the Dark Lord was expecting it within the next day. It was now nearly done and Mircea realized she needed a book she had left in the main library.

So she did not hear Bellatrix enter the Manor and she did not expect to see her leaning over the map when she returned. An overturned glass lay at the edge of the map and Bellatrix was watching the liquid spread across the massive parchment, blurring and melting the ink on the page.

Mircea's fury erupted in a wordless roar, and without thinking she shoved Bellatrix away. Acting as quickly as she could, Mircea siphoned off as much of the water as possible but the damage was done. She stared at the parchment she had invested so many hours on in disbelief, now a three-fourths ruined mess.

"You idiot bitch!" she shrilled at Bellatrix, who had watched in detached amusement. "Do you know who that was for?"

"Make another," the older witch shrugged, picking up her glass and refilling it with wine from the sideboard.

"Do you have ANY IDEA how long that takes?"

"No," Bella sneered.

Lucius had heard screaming and, despite his deep desire to avoid his ex-sister-in-law, he entered the dining room. If something had happened to Mircea's map there was bound to be blood.

"What have you done now, Bella?" he drawled at her, his face a mask of indifference.

"I spilled my drink. Wasn't my fault she had her things all over the table."

"And when you are in my home you will ask of me before you drink and certainly before you interfere in the work of someone the Dark Lord has chosen himself."

Bella snickered and Lucius could see Mircea stiffen. "Chosen? That thing?" She looked back down at the ruined map. "It didn't even work, worthless piece of parchment."

Mircea's hand jerked towards her wand and Lucius knew with certainty that she was going to try to attack Bella. And if that happened Bella would deal with her very cruelly indeed.

Before he could give it any thought, Lucius caught Mircea in his arms, pinning her arms by her sides in a bear hug. She struggled against him but he only increased his hold on her, pressing her tightly to him.

"Hours of work, thrown away at the hands of a wasted lush!" Mircea shrilled lividly. "You explain to your master why his map is ruined then! I'll not take the blame for your idiocy!"

Bella opened her mouth to fight back but Lucius was in no temper to deal with her.

"You will find your own way out, Bella dear. As Lord of the Manor, I command it."

She stared wide-eyed for a moment, unable to believe he had stooped to that level. The laws of Manor Lords were deeper magic than even she could afford to toy with. Lucius only used it rarely against her when he and Narcissa had been together, but now there was little motivation for him to resist. It was that or risk a duel with Voldemort's pet.

"You have no right!" she hissed at him. "Cissy was so much better than you; she never stooped so low. You brought her to your level, you worm, and you're the reason she's dead!"

A tiny flicker of pain flashed in Lucius's eyes at the mention of his dead wife and Bellatrix drew closer to him. "The lowest she ever reached was when she married you. And here you stand, defending this little upstart!"

But whatever Bellatrix may have wanted to pursue with that comment was cut off as her face went white and sweat beaded on her forehead. She was apparently struggling mightily against some force that was trying to physically remove her from the Manor.

"Time to go, Bella dear."

With one last rude gesture, Bellatrix stormed from the room. Mircea realized that though she was standing completely still, Lucius still held her to him. Shoving him away, she grabbed the map off of the table and threw it on the floor before hurrying out of the opposite door.

Lucius watched her go and slowly he picked up the map and inspected it. The damage was not irreversible, but it required a certain solution… Folding it neatly, he tucked it into his pocket and headed for the cellars.

* * *

When Mircea returned to her room that evening, she did not notice the owl.

She had walked through the Manor's grounds until she reached a sufficiently remote patch of forest. The rest of her absence had been spent in regaining her composure. She had to fix the map; it was to be presented to the Dark Lord the following afternoon and it had taken her a week to create. And if it was not done…there had been certain 'promises' of what would happen to anyone who set the plans back even a day.

But the owl did not want to wait and did not want to be ignored. The great grey hooted petulantly and Mircea jumped. She took the thick letter from the bird and carried it to the window. Leaning outside, she watched it fly to the owlery of the Manor itself. So it was a Malfoy owl…

She opened the envelope gently and was stunned when she unfolded the contents. Her map was restored. Some features here and there were still blurred and the edges of the spill were a different color from the rest of the parchment, but it had been repaired. She could read the magic embedded in it clearly and it would only take an hour to finish the map as it now was.

She was boggled. Lucius had repaired her map. He had saved her from certain punishment. She had no idea how he had done it, but it didn't matter. He had, and he had done it _for her_.

Mircea forced that train of thought from her mind and cleared papers off of her desk. She could finish this cursed thing now and then sleep off the frustration of the day.

* * *

Mircea had tried to ignore Fenrir as best as she could but he had risen above the level of a nuisance now. He had followed her for half of the day and he was currently perched in a corner of the study, drinking and watching her in a thoroughly creepy way. She was wishing that she had some sort of claim to the laws of the Manor herself so she could banish him when the door opened and Lucius Malfoy entered the room.

"At your earliest convenience, I would like to tour about the grounds."

"Yes! Now. Please."

The look she gave him made Lucius smile. It was one of complete desperation and it did not take a lot of brainpower to figure out why.

"Crawling to your keeper, Malfoy?" Fenrir sneered, puffing out his broad chest.

Lucius's temper changed instantly and he could feel his face burning. How dare that _creature _speak to him like this?

"What on earth do you mean?"

Both Lucius and Fenrir looked at Mircea with equal amounts of surprise.

"We all _know_. You've got him on a leash to keep him out of the Dark Lord's hair," Fenrir snickered.

"That is why I am in this house," she replied coolly. "But I accompany Lucius for a stroll across his lovely grounds because I wish to and for no other reason. Is that not right?"

Her dark eyes locked on Lucius and he joined in quickly. "Of course. I greatly enjoy the pleasure of Mircea's presence." He even went as far as to place a hand on her shoulder.

Fenrir looked between them like someone who had been tricked and was trying to see how it was done. Finally, he left the room, growling to himself and not making eye contact with either of them.

They waited a sufficiently long time before they both turned to one another.

"Thank you," they said in unison. There was a pause and for the first time since they had met, they both laughed.

"You have my appreciation. Even if I swore to kill you if you became inconvenient," Mircea ribbed.

A real smile softened Lucius's face. "I'd like to see you try, witch."


	4. Chapter 4: Confusion and Frustration

**Chapter 4: Confusion and Frustration**

It had been decided that Scrimgeour could not be reliably Imperious-ed and therefore should just be gotten rid of. Thicknesse was a much better candidate, also "looking the part" far more than Rufus, and would be much easier to get alone. Mircea was the one who needed to figure out possible ways of making that happen. However, she had also only been in the Ministry a handful of times in her life and she now had to learn schedules, alarms, traps, and nuances from hearsay. This was where Lucius came in. He had been talking to Draco one evening when she had rushed up to him her eyes alight.

"You were once an important man were you not?"

His face clouded but he answered her. "I was once a close confidant of the Minister himself."

"And you know the Ministry?"

"I know parts of it few have even been inside."

"Like the Department of Mysteries?"

Slowly, Lucius rose to his full height. "We entered an extremely secure division of the Ministry, undetected. I truly hope that is what you are referring to."

Mircea returned his gaze but she didn't push the issue. "Come with me."

She left the room without waiting for his reply. Lucius remained rooted to the spot. This could be the chance he needed to raise himself back up into favor. But he would have to work with her and she was still intolerable. However, a choking sense of doom was closing over the Manor. There had been hints of the Dark Lord changing location and this very home had been suggested. If the Dark Lord moved here, Lucius would not be able to stay hidden in the corners of Voldemort's vision as he did at the Death Eater meetings.

Just in the last meeting, Lucius had been made to feed live ferrets and stoats to Nagini. The Death Eaters had watched while Voldemort mocked him for every cringe and flinch as Nagini's teeth raked along his arms. The poison in her fangs had burned the skin and even now long thin scabs decorated his forearms. If things continued in this way, with Lucius as little more than a servant, it would not be long before he was fed to Nagini himself.

Mircea heard his footsteps as he left the room and followed her, so she did not turn around to acknowledge him. She had noticed the changing mood as well. Voldemort had left Lucius alone for a few weeks, but now his attention was turning back to the fallen wizard and any scenario she could devise in her mind's eye ended badly for Lucius. He had banked entirely on one side of things and had overplayed what few cards he had; he had gambled and lost.

She had only avoided this in her own life in one way: detachment. She had always lived and operated alone. Now nearly forty years old, she could not say she terribly regretted her decision. There was no family that would suffer, as she had, if her life was ended and none to hold her back from acting as became necessary.

* * *

They began a mutually beneficial and mutually distant relationship over these plans, and as Lucius entered his study late several nights later with a large mauve tome in his hand, he thudded it down on the large desk, next to Mircea.

"You don't actually _have_ to do that _every_ time you have a book in your hands," she said dryly, not looking up at him.

"Why miss an opportunity to annoy you?" he shot back with a smirk. The now familiar half smile flitted across her face and he walked around behind her to look down at what they had been working on. He placed one hand on the desk and the other on the back of her chair – his chair really but she had commandeered it and cursed it to keep him out of it – and leaned over her, placing his own face beside hers.

His focus on her measured handwriting was broken as he found himself looking over her hands and arms as she wrote. She had taken to rolling up her sleeves to keep them out of the wet ink and the Dark Mark blazed on her left forearm. She was nearly as pale as Lucius himself and with his arm next to hers, the twin marks stood out sharp and clear. His eyes trailed upward to focus on her face, with its crow's feet and worry lines. Some long loose curls hung in her face and once again he wanted to tug on them. Her hair was loosely pulled back and it softened her low, prominent cheekbones.

Mircea could feel him watching her so she asked him if a certain detail about the Minister's schedule was absolutely correct, hoping to change the focus of his attention. Lucius leaned closer to the page, now nearly embracing her with the way his arms were positioned. His hair slid from his shoulder and hung, like a pale curtain, half covering his face, which had filled out healthily in the past month. His intense grey eyes read the page carefully and his chapped lips mouthed the words slightly as he read. His jaw was fuzzy with a light five 'o clock shadow and his hands were spotted with ink. Covering a quarter of his forehead was a smear of dust from the old books in the east wing library.

He moved back across the desk from her. "The schedule is, to the best of my knowledge, exactly correct."

"Thank you. You promised to add the locales of his office alarms. Is it too late or –"

"Never too late," he said, waving his hand breezily. "What else is there to do?"

He had said it more to himself than to her, but Mircea had noticed an undercurrent in his words. That and the particular way he drank in the evenings and the way he rubbed his eyes, but never said he was tired.

Lucius saw Mircea give him an odd look and it irritated him. "What is it?"

"You don't sleep." It was a statement not a question. Mircea had slept little and poorly ever since she had moved here and it had not occurred to her that he could very well have the same problem. This was, after all, his own home.

"I've had years of practice." His tone was brittle and cold like ice chips and very clearly told her not to probe the topic.

But Mircea was intrigued. "How is that possible?"  
He looked at her like her brains had fallen out.

"What? A huge home like this, plenty of gold I'm sure, and a job in the lap of the Ministry… hardly sounds difficult to me."

It had never struck Lucius before just how much she had incorrectly assumed about him, at least as far as he saw it. So much had gone so wrong in his life and the regret was feeding his insomnia. The regret and the fear…

"You once told me I did not know the first thing about you so I could not judge your capabilities. It would be wise not to make the very mistake you harp against."

Mircea leaned forward, eyes glinting angrily. "You have never proven me wrong." Each word was said very deliberately, an intentional copy of what he had once told her.

"The Dark Lord…" Lucius trailed off, unsure of if he should continue. He wanted to prove her wrong but he did not want to confide in her. "…tried to kill my son and executed my wife…executed her because she tried to leave."

Lucius turned a grayish white color and looked ill. Mircea was pricked with sympathy at the sight of him.

"How did she die? Your wife?"

"At a guess, the Cruciatus Curse."

Mircea winced very slightly.

"My mother was Imperiused by an Auror. Took her own life."

Now Lucius had a chance to look surprised. She had alluded to family problems and very clearly had a vendetta against the Ministry but this was the first time he had heard any solid information.

"That is not very like an Auror."

"You would be surprised just how different your experience with the Ministry is from mine, Mr. Malfoy."

He eyed her, not speaking. He was smart enough to know that not every Death Eater was in it because they had a desire to kill and not every Auror was in it for justice and peace. There were surprising and twisted motives on all sides.

"Here." She shuffled through a stack of parchments and handed him a layout of the Minister's office and the corridor outside of it. Lucius looked over the page and smirked.

"What?" she asked brusquely.

"One can always tell the writing of a woman," Lucius quipped, clearing away a space on the enormous desk and pulling out a bottle of deep green ink. He leaned close over the page and began to write.

"I rather like to think my writing is ambiguous," Mircea said, stretching her arms over her head and rubbing her temples.

"More than most. But there is still the feminine curve to it, like the curve of the neck into the shoulder."

"Do behave yourself, Mister Malfoy," Mircea qipped.

"Oh but why?" Lucius answered her, looking up from the page with a wicked grin.

Mircea took one look at his face and burst out laughing.

Lucius looked slightly put out. "It wasn't funny."

"No," she said, between giggles. "Your face."

Now Lucius quirked an eyebrow at her, looking decidedly put out. "I rather like to think I have –"

"Oh cut it out, you peacock," she retaliated. "You've got ink across your nose."

Lucius leapt up and stood before the gilded mirror at the other end of the room. A loud exclamatory curse issued from him and he worked at rubbing off the ink as best as he could.

"It's my damn glasses," he explained huffily when he returned. "I keep…misplacing them."

With a sly smile, Mircea pulled a pair of square framed glasses from her pocket and held them out on her palm towards him. "You left them at dinner. As Bella was there, it seemed prudent to not leave them lying about."

Lucius took the glasses from her. "It would seem you are good for something after all, Mircea."

Before she could counter his remark, the door opened, causing both of them to reach automatically for their wands. But it was only Antonin Dolohov.

"What have we here?" he taunted.

Mircea rolled her eyes openly and Lucius directed his attention solely to the papers in his hands. Death Eaters were beginning to show up more frequently at Malfoy Manor, making it increasingly difficult to find any solitude. Dolohov was a chronic intruder since his own home was a pit and the Manor was a vast improvement.

"Get me some tea, Mircea," Lucius mumbled, focusing on drawing in the precise locations.

Mircea's pen hit the table with a loud sharp sound and she stared at him. "Why would I do that?"

"You fetch my glasses, why not my tea? Anyway, you're free at the moment and I need to be alert."

"How about I assist you by dumping a pot of tea over your head instead?"

Dolohov plopped into an ugly chaise lounge and leered at the pair.

"Only if you wish to find yourself in a closet," Lucius answered, without a trace of emotion in his voice.

Mircea scowled and went back to her work with a final, "Get your own damn tea."

Lucius made a tutting sound, not looking up from his work at the other side of the desk. "Language. It's not ladylike."

"Being ladylike is a refuge for weak women."

A smile grew on Lucius's face. "And being irascible and antagonistic? What kind of woman is that a refuge for?"

A loud laugh interrupted the banter, jarring both participants enough to make them angry.

"You two are the best entertainment," Dolohov sniggered from his perch on the chaise.

Mircea caught Lucius's eye and nodded subtly at Antonin. Lucius's eyebrow quirked in response and a fiendish smile flashed across his face.

"I'm _stunned_ you've lasted this long, Antonin," Mircea began, laying her pen aside and clasping her hands under her chin.

"I would be _petrified_ were I you," Lucius picked up, turning very deliberately toward the Death Eater.

"What are you guys talking about?" Dolohov was clearly unnerved by the deliberateness in their speech. Both of them generally knew more than he did, so if something was going on it was likely they would know long before he did.

"He doesn't know!" Mircea stage whispered, leaning toward Lucius. "I'm _stupefied_!"

"_Shocking_!" Lucius stage-whispered back.

"He looks _dazed_. Maybe we should be nice."

"Doesn't he always have that _dumbfounded_ expression on his face?"

"Well, he is rather _oblivious_."

Dolohov looked at them as if something was slowly dawning on him. "Nothing's going on, is there?"

"Depends," Lucius snapped. "Any twelve year olds or Aurors in sight?"

Doholov's face went red as he made the connection between their word choice and his own past experience with Potter and his friends. Antonin had a propensity for getting himself Petrified or Stunned in nearly every duel he had been in within recent memory.

"Oh piss off!" he spat at them, slinking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Moody man, isn't he?" Mircea asked Lucius, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Well, what do you expect from Eastern Europeans?" Lucius returned, but a grin split his features and Mircea could not resist smiling as well.

* * *

"How stupid are you really?"

Mircea looked up at Severus with a somewhat baffled expression on her face. "What are you blathering about?"

"Lucius Malfoy helped you create these plans."

"Who brought this to your attention?"

"Dolohov."

Mircea swore in a long string of foreign words, slamming her book shut. "And they're good plans. What is the problem?"

Snape placed his hands on the table she was reading at and pushed his hooked-nosed face into hers. She resisted the urge to cringe away from him.

"Lucius Malfoy is not in the Dark Lord's good graces. Lucius Malfoy is not trusted and is not trustworthy. Lucius Malfoy is a fool who manages to destroy all he touches!"

She remained silent; you didn't fight with the second in command.

"I gave you lenience for your own sake. If the Dark Lord knew Malfoy's hand had touched these papers, you would be punished as only a Death Eater is punished. It would be very unwise of you to grow close to him, or to allow him to draw closer to you."

Mircea stood to her full height. "You shut me up in this house. You tether me to a forsaken man. Should either of us wish to leave, we must be in the other's company. Explain to me please _how_ I might avoid him when you have done all in your power to bring us together?"

"The Dark Lord believed that your convictions were deep enough you would not forget what he really is: Ministry."

"How _could_ I forget?!" she raged at him. "But if I am kept away from all resources and not permitted to visit the Ministry myself–"

"Your capture would ruin all of our plans. Even as we speak Yaxley is arranging a private meeting with Thicknesse. The Dark Lord has made it sufficiently clear to you that you are no longer a free agent, Miss Elaide. Should you forget to whom you owe your current position, he will find it prudent to remind you."

Snape's hands grasped her upper arms and again she had to suppress her natural reaction.

"Understand this: you are not to grow into any familiarity with Lucius Malfoy, professional or personal. This is an order and you are obliged by that pretty design on your arm to follow it."

"Of course, Professor Snape," she said through gritted teeth.

Severus pushed her roughly back into the table behind her and swept out of the room. Fury flooded through Mircea and she stormed out of the opposite door and straight into Lucius Malfoy. Since he had significantly more bulk than her, she was knocked to the ground.

"Hissing and spitting like a cat! What is _your_ problem?" Lucius's voice was full of disgust.

"You," Mircea growled, pointing her wand under his chin. "Stay away from me!"

"Gladly, as soon as you get your wand out of my face."

She began to comply but changed her mind midway. The spell hit Lucius in the gut and knocked him across the hallway. He lay on his back trying to catch his breath, listening to her footsteps retreating.

* * *

A particularly scorching day landed on the Manor like a stifling blanket, smothering the occupants. There was to be a Death Eater meeting that evening and Mircea had spent most of the day running about, gathering up books and papers and plans. Mircea had renewed her determination to avoid Lucius. It was far too easy to slip into some familiarity with the weasel so she decided to just avoid him altogether.

It was to great dismay that she found Bellatrix standing in the door of the library when she turned to leave the room. Mircea had been aware for a few days that Bella was trying to corner her alone and she had done her very best to hide from Bellatrix. She had even gone as far as to create a moving double at one point to draw Bella out of a room she needed to get into. Mircea cursed herself for hiding her wand in a fold in her skirt. Her arms were full of books and Bella would be to her wand well before Mircea could get her own if she made a grab for it.

"What are you doing here?" Bella hissed at her.

"I could ask you the same question. Get out of my way." Mircea shifted her armful of books so that it would be easier to go for her wand.

"You don't belong here. You're no better than a Mudblood, with your shady family and your grasping claws."

Mircea's temper flared to life and she decided to not even bother with her wand. She plowed into Bellatrix with all the force she could muster. In retaliation, Bella grabbed onto Mircea's hair and yanked hard, almost knocking her down. The younger witch shrieked, more in surprise than pain.

"He'll never fall for you, you filth! You could never measure up to my sister!" Bellatrix howled at her, white with anger. She was convinced that Mircea was giving her the run around. Surely, she had angled to get herself placed in the new Death Eater meeting-spot and surely she had worked to get close to Lucius. That selfish snake would never have opened up to Mircea otherwise.

"What are you talking about?!" Mircea shouted at her.

"_I should be here_! Not you! The Dark Lord needs _ME_!"

Mircea reacted a second too late and she felt Bellatrix's nails bite into her cheek. But Mircea had not survived this long for nothing. The spell that hit Bellatrix threw her against the other end of the hallway hard enough to crack the wood. An invisible hand twisted around Bellatrix's neck and her eyes bulged at Mircea. In her heart, Bella, like her sister and Lucius, was a horrible coward.

"Touch me again, and I swear I will kill you. And I can guarantee, your Lord would not be nearly as sad as you flatter yourself into thinking he would be."

She left Bellatrix gasping in the hall, having lifted the spell, and grabbed up the books she had been carrying. The only reason she had gotten away with that was because she had the element of surprise and she was not going to stick around and wait for Bella to recover.

Lucius had been in the other wing and had heard Bella's familiar screaming from his rooms. He almost ran into Mircea as he came flying around the corner.

"Are you okay? I heard Bella."

"I'm fine," Mircea growled.

"You're bleeding."

"And my hair is falling out and I have all these cursed books! I KNOW!"

Lucius looked at her for a moment and then took the books out of her arms, piling them on a nearby end table. "Come. You can't leave those cuts like that. Who knows where her hands have been."

They turned into a room Mircea had never been into before on the first floor. It was a potions storeroom and Lucius pulled down a bottle of clear green liquid. He led her back to a small sitting room and gestured for her to sit on a silvery couch. She obeyed and pushed her hair out of her face. With some cotton, Lucius gently wiped the liquid across the slender cuts.

Mircea's eyes filled with tears as the sting of it seemed to burn through her whole skull. She clutched at his hand, and it was a moment before she could breathe normally.  
"What _was_ that?"

"Bella has a habit of lacing those lovely nails of her in poison if she's feeling particularly vengeful."

Mircea's eyes opened wide and she jumped up, ready to track down and destroy the other woman, but Lucius forced her back onto the couch.

"It's not worth it. You cannot win a fight with her."

As Lucius watched Mircea, he could not help but feel sorry for her. She looked so pathetic with her hair hanging half in a bun and half flying every which way. His hands acted of their own accord: they reached out and let down the rest of her hair. It fell midway down her back, longer than he would have guessed. He had never seen her hair let down before and now it was more clear that there was grey streaking through the wet sand color. He pushed some of the long locks out of her face. Mircea felt his hand trace the line of her jaw very gently, coming to rest lightly against her neck. His eyes seemed to absorb her and her heart began to pound.

She was supposed to be avoiding him and instead…

Lucius jerked away as if a shock had gone through him. There was confusion and frustration written clearly on his face.

She sighed heavily and stood, moving quickly to the door and pulling her hair back up with a quick wave of her wand. Quickly thanking him, she left the room; there was still work to do.

* * *

Lucius was looking for his son when he found it. He could hardly have believed it was true and he nearly missed it in his haste. He strode quickly to the table and picked it up: Mircea's wand.

Malfoy was nearly convinced she slept with it in one hand; she was a quick-draw and he had never seen her without it. He turned it in his hands. It was thin and average length, a little long for a woman. He rolled a list of wand woods through his mind until he finally landed on the wood it must be. But before he could enjoy his triumph, Mircea's voice rang out behind him.

"Drop it, Malfoy."

"Or what?"

He reached for his pocket but found nothing there. Turning to Mircea, he saw his own wand pointed at his face. _How_ was she always doing this to him?

"How exactly did you end up with my wand, Miss Elaide?"

"I took it out of your pocket."

His eyebrows quirked sinfully. "You should have warned me. It could have been more enjoyable for both of us."

She rolled her eyes at him and held out her hand.

"Keep my wand if it makes you feel better. I was simply curious about your wand wood. It is acacia, is it not?"

Mircea tucked his wand into her hair, so the snakehead was all that was visible, and she nodded. "Acacia and hypogriff feather."

"Hypogriff feather? Truly?" Lucius looked closely at the end of the wand now.

"It's not uncommon. Not as powerful as dragon heartstring, but more intricate."

Lucius waved the wand a bit. "Twelve inches, slightly yielding."

"Correct," Mircea leaned against the table next to him, looking at her wand with a pleased expression.

"Let's see what I remember of wandlore, then. Acacia. Difficult to match, but powerful in the right hands. Not much for flashy magic."

"Forgot one thing: extremely loyal to their owner."

Lucius snorted. "Loyalty? That wand currently lodged in your hair has been passed down for a thousand years. Wands do as they are told."

Mircea smirked at him and pointed to a candelabra across the room. "Prove me wrong."

Lucius stood facing the candelabra and after a moment swung Mircea's wand at it. There was a light puff and the candles all lit. Both of them looked equally shocked.

"How do you use this wretched thing?" Lucius scoffed. He noticed the look on her face. "What?"

"You got it to do something. That's not happened before."

"I was trying to blow the thing up!"

"Yeah, but it did _something_ for _you_. It usually only responds to me."

Lucius shrugged, unimpressed, and handed it back to her. Mircea turned the wand over in her hands, now eyeing Lucius with curiosity. She traded the one in her hair for the one in her hands and began to look over his wand.

"Eighteen inch, unyielding…elm?"

"Of course."

"And undoubtedly dragon heartstring."

"Undoubtedly?"

"You were trying to blow up a candelabra to prove a point. Of course you have dragon heartstring."

Lucius snorted at her comment. "Is it any surprise that your wand is for difficult wizards and witches? Hard to match and hard to control. Not to mention a certain lack of flair." His eyes drifted over her figure and she gave him a smug smile.

"And you? Unyielding, absolutely. And elm…the perfect wand for a prissy pure-blood. However, unlike you, the wand will make few mistakes."

He smirked at her. "You forgot the length, dearest. It is quite impressive."

"Or over-compensation."

"Malfoys do not compensate. But if you doubt me…"

Mircea, tired of Lucius's consistent taunting, decided to retaliate.

"In that case," she leaned close against him as she spoke, "I must admit a flaw in my wand. While it is somewhat yielding, I am _very_ flex-i-ble." She let her voice drop somewhat and tilted her chin down so she was looking up at him through her long eyelashes. As their eyes met, she saw his pupils dilate and a slight flush colored his cheeks. She slipped his wand back into his pocket, letting her hand trail lightly against his thigh and inner hip. "Your wand, Mister Malfoy."

The same look of confusion and frustration clouded his features and he opened his mouth to speak, but the words were cut off.

"Father?"

Lucius practically shoved Mircea away from him, even as she was dashing for the other side of the room. Their anxiousness must have shown in their faces, because Draco gave them both a very odd look.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just talking about wands," Lucius answered smoothly. "What is it you wanted?"

As Draco asked his father where a particular potions element could be found in the Manor, Mircea scooted away quickly and did not look back. So she did not see Lucius's eyes following her as she left.

* * *

_Author's Note: Lucius's wand is actually 18 inches. :-) So while it may seem a bit much, the credit goes to J.K. herself. I'm just willing to take advantage of it. _


	5. Chapter 5: Self-Destruction

**Chapter 5: Self-Destruction**

August had just begun and Lucius rose stiffly from the chaise he had fallen asleep in. He never slept when in his room so he had taken to staying there until the early morning hours and then roaming about and napping in different hideaways throughout the Manor. He glanced out the window, into the sunrise, to find someone sitting on a bench on the lawn. He stopped, surprised, and looked closer. His lawn was not a place for casual visitors and it was early in the morning; his insomnia was the only thing that caused him to be awake at this hour.

It was Mircea and something else, something much smaller. She was petting it and staring across the dewy grass. Curiosity got the better of him and he told himself it would only be for a moment. After their last interaction he had told himself to avoid her when possible.

It angered him that she had such an effect on him when he had so little effect on her. He had tried being vulgar around her to anger her and she either snapped at him over it or turned it back on him in a way that gave him goosebumps.

Lucius was halfway to her, when he realized his shoes were soaked in dew and he began to grumble to himself. So it wasn't until he was standing next to Mircea that he realized the animal with her was one of his white peacocks.

"Good morning, Grumpy. Have you come all the way out here just to ruin the peace and quiet?"

"But of course," he groused at her, before realizing he could just repel the water around him. Cursing himself quietly, he performed the charm, making himself and the area around him dry. He then focused his attention on Mircea.

"I see you've found one of the peacocks," he remarked as emotionlessly as possible.

"And now I've found two," she replied with a smirk.

It took him a moment but Lucius quickly remembered their rather infamous fight over their first dinner together where she had called him a peacock. A grin flashed across his face.

"'Damn fine to look at,' if I remember correctly."

Mircea did not look up from the peacock that she was now feeding. "It is objectively true, Mister Malfoy."

His eyebrows quirked, and a smile grew. "And how would that be, Miss Elaide?"

She looked him full in the face with a very passionless expression, but he could tell he was being analyzed.

"Well-groomed, excellent taste in clothes, strong jaw, fair skin, light hair, high cheekbones, broad shoulders but narrow hips, tall…" she listed each while vaguely pointing to the feature. She met his eyes again. "And eyes full of money."

Lucius bristled inwardly at the very thinly veiled insult, but his pride had been stroked enough that he did not react. Many witches had always thought him attractive, but hearing Mircea say so was different. She was not the kind to give false flattery.

"Seeing as I am such a sight for sore eyes, I don't suppose my presence would offend to terribly."

Again, the Lucius trait of asking a statement-question. She rolled her eyes but nodded. "By all means, Lucius, take a seat."

* * *

That night Lucius stood before the full-length mirror in the master bedroom and examined himself carefully. She had said he was objectively attractive but his vanity did not believe her now that he was removed from the gaze of her dark eyes.

His skin was beyond pale, only just now coming out of grey and translucent. His eyes had massive bags and deep dark circles, though they still had their piercing gaze. He had given up on the idea of shaving every day, and quite honestly it did his face some favors. And then there were the numbers. Lucius clenched his fists, resisting the urge to try and rip them physically off of his skin. He was branded and marked as a criminal.

Vividly, the last time he had stood before this mirror came back to him. It had been the night of the attack on the Department of Mysteries. Narcissa had helped him dress in his Death Eater robes and her eyes had been so sad and so distant. He had told her that this was for her, for her and Draco, but she had only nodded and walked away.

Lucius clutched at his head, almost in physical pain as waves of memories tore at him.

His son had left his inquest. Draco had walked, red eyed, from the room before his sentence was even pronounced. He had so little faith in his own father…

And at the last Death Eater meeting, he had been 'gifted' Voldermort's memories of killing Narcissa. They had hunted her to the Black Forest. She had been Crucioed until she was beyond even Frank and Alice Longbottom, every opening on her face and hands bleeding. Then she had finally been allowed to die.

Lucius sank to his knees, grasping for a shirt, which he managed to pull on as his vision swam.

His wife, blonde and delicate, lying on muddy ground and twitching in fatal madness…

His son was now a Death Eater. Led like a lamb to slaughter by their fear of what would be done if they were to refuse. His young son had been ordered to kill. And not only to kill, but to kill the greatest wizard of their time. Now Bella was trying her very best to wind herself around Draco…only Mircea's presence prevented it.

Lucius tried to stand and stumbled over into the vanity table, which collapsed under his awkward weight. He lashed out and the mirror exploded in the burst of wandless magic. He lay with his hands covering his face, bent double and breathing hard. Lucius did not cry; he simply tried to fight off the waves of rage that threatened to drown him.

Mircea had been in the study below the master suite when she heard him fall over on the table. She was on her feet in moments and flying down the corridors. She was outside the door when she heard the mirror explode and Draco came running moments later.

"You go in. We don't have a good track record with me surprising him," Mircea ordered and Draco unlocked the door.

Both of them gasped involuntarily. The sight of Lucius curled double and bleeding was pitiful.

"Give me your wand," Mircea snapped at Draco.

He flinched away from her automatically. "Like hell!"

"Boy, if I have to take that wand from you, you will sorely regret it."

With a nasty scowl, Draco gave her his wand. She murmured something and flicked her wrist nothing happened.

"Heal him and get him dressed. You know how he is about that."

"But I can't heal–"

She rolled her eyes at the boy. "Of course you can! Unicorn hair? It's not like that wand is good for anything else."

Draco blushed scarlet but did not counter her. He had kept his wand core very quiet, hoping people would not realize what Mircea had surmised with one test spell. But Lucius let out a rather alarming groan and began grasping at handfuls of carpeting at that particular moment. Draco was truly worried about his father and knelt beside him, healing his father's bleeding face and hands.

"Where's your Pensieve?"

"Pensieve?"

Mircea lost her temper quickly; Draco could be the thickest idiot in the world at times. "Pen-sieve! Where. Is. It?! You're an old, rich family; I know you have one."

Draco glowered at her but explained where it was hidden in the study. It was rare and very expensive and his father would kill him if she messed it up. But his father looked like he wanted to die anyway.

Mircea darted off down the halls. Once she found the actual basin, there was still the problem of transporting it. She finally decided to levitate it upstairs and just hope madly that Bella didn't show up along the way. When she reappeared, Draco had managed to coax his father into a shirt, waistcoat, and necktie. The boy looked nearly as bad as the father, but Lucius's wounds were impressively healed. She made a note to remember it; that was the most useful thing about him. Lucius was slouched in a chair and Mircea gently landed the Pensieve on a sidetable next to his chair.

"Get them out, Malfoy," she ordered.

He only shook his head, groaning again and lurching forward. Mircea caught a handful of his hair and pulled his head back so he had to look her in the eye.

"Damn your pride! Take them out!"

Lucius met her eyes and was surprised by what he found there. She was not angry, despite the tone of her words and the strong grip she had on his hair. Her eyes were concerned. Like a man about to kill himself, Lucius put his wand to his temple and pulled away a thick strand of pearly memory. It dropped into the bowl and Mircea could hear the chaos of screams that reverberated from the many memories before they diluted in the bowl. She let go of his hair and eased him back into the chair he sat in. Behind her, Mircea heard Draco exhale loudly; he must have been holding his breath subconsciously. Lucius looked better, though pale and in a cold sweat. He hastily checked his necktie before relaxing back against the chair.

Draco was the first to break the silence. "How did you know…?"

"Experience. Memories can rend and tear…"

"So you have…memories somewhere else too?"

"Indeed."

Draco let the subject drop. It was clear from the tone of her last word that she would not say more about it to him.

"Draco," Lucius rasped, sitting up. "Draco, I'm so sorry."

Draco stared fixedly at the carpet but Mircea could see his ears turn red. He nodded vigorously.

"May I have a moment with Miss Elaide?"

Draco nodded again before heading for the door. "I'll wait down the hall."

Lucius nodded and watched his son leave in silence. When the boy had left, he turned his attention on the witch standing in front of him. Her age seemed to be showing as much as his own tonight, her face creased with dark circles under her eyes.

"Why did you ask me to stay?"

"Simply to thank you, Mircea."

Mircea mulled over her response. She knew he was being, for once, unguarded and sincere, and she decided to meet his honesty with some of her own.

"My name's not Mircea."

Now Lucius was intrigued. "Then why does the Dark Lord…?"

"Mircea is what they all called me. But it's not my first name."

Lucius was too curious, and he pressed her about it.

"It's Persephone," she answered him quietly.

"The goddess of the dead…?" There was none of the sarcasm she had expected in his voice.

"Yes."

She moved to the chair by the vanity table, perching on the very edge of it. Lucius remained in the chair with his eyes closed long enough that she began to wonder if he was asleep. But eventually he opened his eyes and stretched languidly, again reminding her of a cat.

"The name suits you," he murmured, returning easily to their conversation. He walked over to where she was perched, and held his hand out to her slowly. "Thank you then, Persephone."

She slipped her thin hand into his broad one and smirked up at him. "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

Mircea called Draco back into the room as she slipped away down the hall. Instead of returning to the library, though, she darted through isolated corridors back to her own room. Her trunk was mostly empty and she pulled it out from under the bed. The lid was intricately carved, as much an heirloom as a practical case, and she ran her hand across the twining vines and branches. Her hand rested on one of the branches for a moment before she slid back a hidden panel in a branch.

Resting in the nook was a slightly glowing vial. Mircea picked it up and held it in front of her face. Silver threads twisted and spun in the vial: memories. Memories of her mother's death, of her father's betrayal of her mother, of the Ministry's betrayal of her father, of her father's murder, of her life alone after that, of the last war…memories that she, like Lucius, could not live with. They had torn her apart in a very similar way, though she had not been as lucky; no one had found her until a full day had passed.

Every time she held the vial in her hands she had a strong desire to smash it, to let the memories float off on the wind. But they were a part of her and she could not quite let them go. Mircea pulled her hair down and massaged her temples and scalp, trying to ward off a headache.

No one had called her Persephone in years. Not since her father had died.

Even though the memory was in the vial, enough of it remained in her mind that she returned to it now.

She had been with him, on holiday from school. The Ministry had promised him witness protection, but they had lied. So her father, the traitor and the reason her mother was dead, had to run. He had met up with Mircea for a week in France, hoping to enjoy some time with his daughter, and they had found him. It had always been a matter of time; her father was not clever enough to evade them forever. They had given Mircea her scars, these Dark wizards her mother had served, and had carved her up before healing them in the most grotesque way possible. And when her father had come for her, they had killed him in front of her.

Mircea's hands were in fists and she jammed them against her eyes. The memory was only an echo of the true memory but it took everything in her not to cry, even after twenty-five years.

* * *

Bella and Fenrir had finally been given something to do that sent them away from the Manor, largely recruiting werewolves and vampires. Mircea had openly mocked Bella for being sent after the vampires though she did worry a bit that Bella might get bitten just so she could attack her.

So Draco and Lucius were able to spend much more time together, something that pleased both of them. But they were not the only ones who saw more of one another. Somehow it had become nearly impossible for Lucius and Mircea to avoid one another. Whether consciously or subconsciously, they were now always attracted to the same rooms and the same parts of the house. So Lucius noticed quickly one evening when they found themselves walking through the halls together and Mircea seemed out of sorts. But why did it bother him? What did he care if she was upset or not? It irritated him that she had made him care, even if very slightly.

"You seem even less agreeable than usual. What is it?"

She made a face at him but answered. "I miss real food."

"_Real_ food? Is what you're eating not palpable enough for you?"

Mircea scoffed. "All the food here has no flavor and when it does it's horribly disagreeable!"

"And what is it you _would _like?" She shrugged but he deliberately ran into her in jest. "Out with it."

"Lapsha…"

"Come on then."

"Why?"

"Do you want lapsha or don't you?"

Mircea watched him walk away before jogging after him. She was curious enough to go along with it, at least for now. He lead her down into the kitchens of the Manor, sending nervous house-elves away as he planned to take over.

"Can't be so hard," Lucius half spoke to himself. He poured them both glasses of wine, passing Mircea's to her carefully so he avoided contact with her. He then pulled some meat out of the icebox and set it on the table.

Mircea could not help but laugh aloud at the way he looked at it. "You should either cut it or use a cooking spell that will do so. It won't cook itself."

"Are you volunteering?" he snapped at her, before being pushed aside by Mircea.

"Give me that knife."

It made him a little nervous that she pointed to the biggest knife in sight but he handed it to her and she began to shave off slices of meat.

"Any eggs?"

After some hunting, Lucius was able to find some and handed them to her. It wasn't hard to notice she was laughing at him again.

"Yes?"

"With all due respect, you are useless!"

Lucius quirked his eyebrow at her before raising his wine glass in a threatening manner.

"You would not dare."

"Try me, witch."

"Oh, where's that famous Malfoy courage I've heard of and seen no evidence of?"

The wine hit her full in the face and she was legitimately surprised. She had assumed he was bluffing. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand, she flung an egg at him. It landed perfectly, cracking over the top of his head. The yolk slid down his forehead before he could catch it and wipe it away. Anger flashed in his eyes. Throwing a small bag of flour at her, Lucius exploded it in midair, not thinking about the amount of it that would end up on him. When he finished spitting it out and trying to brush it out of his face, he saw Mircea bent double and holding the counter for support. At first, Lucius was worried he had hurt her; he had only meant to anger her, not harm her. But when he looked closer, he saw her shoulders shaking in silent laughter and then she looked up. She had tracks in the flour on her face from where tears from laughing had spilled out of her eyes.

Mircea finally managed to control herself. "That was simply the funniest thing…" she began before relapsing into laughter.

Her laugh was infectious and in spite of himself Lucius was laughing as well. It had been a long time since he had laughed this hard and he could not lie: it felt wonderful.

But as with any bright moment in his current life, it was doomed to be short lived.

Lucius was standing with his back to the kitchen door, so he only saw Mircea drop to one knee without any apparent reason. A spell hit him violently, jerking him around and wrenching him into a similar kneel. He found himself staring at the Dark Lord's well-polished shoes.

"What in the _hell_ is going on here?" The words were a low and deadly hiss and Lucius flinched involuntarily as Nagini began to slither across the kitchen floor.

"My Lord…we did not know you would be gracing us with your presence. Please deign to pardon our appearances."

Lucius felt creeping jealousy. He did not know what it was that allowed her to speak so clearly and easily, but he envied Mircea's quick tongue.

"It is not your appearances that give me concern, Mircea."

Voldemort walked over to her slowly and grabbed her by the neck with one hand, yanking her upward. "What concerns me is your lack of self-respect," he lowered his voice and leaned towards her, "after all of your fuming about the Ministry's sycophants. This and your persistence in ignoring direct orders."

Lucius could not see her, still in his forced kneel, but he imagined he could feel the heat radiating off of her furiously blushing face. Mircea winced as the long nails bit into her throat from the tightening grip.

"If you find you have too much time on your hands, I will simply have to relieve you of it. Is this agreeable, my pet?"

"Simply command me, my Lord, and I will obey."

"Clearly that is not the truth, little liar."

He threw her away from him, and Lucius heard her trip into the cabinets. He knew they were talking about him, but he couldn't get his head around exactly how or why.

Lucius was jerked up and forced to stand at attention as Nagini began to wrap around him, her head resting on his shoulder. He felt at though he was going to faint and a cold sweat broke out across his body. He could clearly see Mircea now, her neck bleeding and her eyes wide.

"Lucius Malfoy…" Voldemort moved in front of him. "You have been nothing but trouble since the moment you returned to me. Incompetent and obviously possessing too much spare time. Very well. You shall accompany me tonight on a rather special… engagement. I will find a way to make you of some use."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius half gasped, looking grey and sick.

"Come, Nagini."

The snake and its master left. The remaining pair stayed standing for nearly a minute after the Dark Lord had left, and then Lucius collapsed.

* * *

Mircea was trying to sleep when a crash scared her into waking.

She drew her wand, shooting light onto the figure. Lucius lay on the center of her bedroom floor and a pool of blood was spreading across her carpet. After making sure this was not a nightmare, Mircea jumped out of her bed and yanked his Death Eater mask off.

Lucius had left with the Dark Lord in the late evening and Mircea had tried to ignore the gnawing dread that grew in her stomach. She had sent Draco to Spinner's End for the next few evenings, afraid that he might be a moving target after the run in with Voldemort. Snape had agreed to this out of his own affection for Draco; that was one small mercy.

"Lucius!" She slapped him across the face and his grey eyes opened, dull and clouded. He saw a familiar face surrounded by long curls.

Mircea sat back for a moment, her mind spinning. What if this was a test? The Dark Lord had ordered her to remain apart from Lucius. Was she expected to let him die? Or was this simply Lucius appearing in a room where he knew someone would be and needing help? In a flash it was clear to her the depth of the manipulation that was sucking her in. Voldemort did not care one way or the other for the Ministry; they were just in his way. But he had counted on her anger and now he was angry that his games were not working, even if accidentally.

Lucius coughed, causing blood to gush from the wound and he groaned loudly in pain. Making up her mind, Mircea began to feel across his body, searching for the injury. The blood was oozing from his midsection and her skin began to crawl. If it was a stomach wound…

With a snarl of frustration, Mircea carefully used her wand to cut back his cloak and robes. She pulled as much of the torn fabric off of him as she could manage, leaving him naked from the hips upward. Now it was much easier to see what the problem was.

When she probed at the gash Lucius cried out in pain loudly, trying to curl his body, and she pushed him down against the floor. Looking closely, she was able to see it had missed his stomach and vital organs. But it was deep and he was losing blood. She could not risk leaving him to get any medical supplies and she was sure Dittany would not be enough.

"Heal it," Lucius hissed at her, grabbing her wrist with his blood soaked hand. He was fighting hard for control, breathing loudly through his nose and his jaw clenched tight.

Their eyes locked and she nodded. "It will hurt."

"I will die if…"

She nodded again and concentrated on the wound. The flesh began to smoke and Lucius roared in pain, half crushing her wrist in his hand and then fighting to keep from yelling again. Slowly the skin began to knit back together, still smoking as it almost melted the wound shut.

When it was all over, Lucius fell back against the floor, panting and releasing her wrist. "What was that?"

"It's very old… I don't know newer spells… Not for this…" Mircea sat back so she was leaning against the leg of her bed.

"It felt medieval."

"What happened to you?"

Lucius did not want to say, but she had saved his life, even if she was an appalling healer.

"The Dark Lord needed a decoy. I was to distract Aurors but I was not made aware of this until…"

She stared at the floor. He had been shoved under the bus, thrown out in hopes that he would be harmed and possibly killed and to shield Voldemort. If this was how he treated a man who had once been most favored… But she cut that line of thinking off right there. She could never end up like Lucius. She was not nearly as stupid and took much less for granted. Mircea was now able to survey the rest of him and she went to that to distract her mind. Bruised and cut with a black eye, but the wound in his side had been the only real danger. But he was still lying on her floor in a pool of his own blood and covered in gore.

"I'm going to move you to your room. Brace yourself."

The Apparation could have been smoother, as Lucius let her know with a string of swearing, but she was distracted. The wound could be reopened if he tried to walk or jerk around, but he couldn't be left in this state and he couldn't remain on her floor.

Mircea gently Levitated him across his bedroom and into the bathroom. She was momentarily surprised at the huge marble bathtub. If she lay him in it and left him he could sink under the water and, in his current state, he may very well drown from not having the energy to save himself. Sighing, she lowered him in and hooked one of her arms under one of his. With a flick, the water gushed out at a nice middle temperature.

The water was a bright pink as it washed the blood off of the half dressed Lucius and she was trying to think of a way to clean the water when Lucius spoke to her.

"That potion next to the wash basin. Labeled 'Everclear.' Pour half of it in."

Mircea nodded and made sure he was gripping the side of the tub before doing as he had said. The water began to clean itself, clearing away the blood and dirt and sweat until it was clear once again. She turned off the water when it reached his chest and again surveyed him.

"Tilt your head back."

Lucius complied and Mircea began to pour handfuls of water over his hair and face, washing out more blood. Leaning forward, she carefully ran her hands over the new scar, removing congealed blood so she could inspect her work. It was closed and would remain that way so that was enough for her. Leaning back again, she worked her hands through his hair, washing out any remainders of the blood and dirt, and carefully avoided his gaze.

When she finally knelt beside the tub, he looked much better and she guardedly admitted to herself that this made her happy.

Lucius was searching her face and he indicated for her to lean forward. Mircea did so and he gently used his wet hand to wipe blood from her face and shoulders, where she had smeared it in her haste.

"Persephone…"

The name was half breathed and half spoken and suddenly the bathroom felt very hot and the air seemed heavy. He was giving her such a look and she could not stop her eyes from roving over his soaking wet body.

Lucius rested his hand on her shoulder, following a bead of water with his eyes as it fell from hid hand and ran down between her breasts. Slowly he slid his hand down along her arm. He wanted so badly to pull her in with him, into the water and the warmth. And her expression…with her lips partly open in a slight, seductive moue…

But his hand brushed across the scar on her arm and broke the spell. Mircea jerked out of his reach as quickly as he pulled his own hand back into the water. Their expressions mirrored one another: now distrustful and wary.

"I suppose you won't go and drown yourself now that I've gone to the trouble of healing you?" she asked sarcastically, standing and feeling a need to cross her arms across her chest.

"Some trouble. Using ancient spells. Lucky you didn't go and get the leeches."

She snorted at him. "Next time you may not be so lucky."

* * *

_Note: Draco's wand core also goes to J.K. and not myself. :-)_


	6. Chapter 6: Bound Together

**Chapter 6: Bound Together**

Mireca poked her head into Lucius's rooms early the next morning to see him gingerly sinking back into his bed. The blonde hair was mussed and he was still in pajamas, but he was alive.

"You're up early," she commented when he waved her into the room.

"As are you. And here of all places." Lucius picked up a smoking cup and looked at her over the rim before drinking the contents. He jerked back against the pillow, screwing up his eyes tightly. After a moment he relaxed again. "Merlin's balls!"

A smile flickered and Mircea sat on the edge of the bed, as far from him as she could. "What was it?"

"Blood replacement. Most of mine was on your floor."

"The elves took care of it last night. The rug's drying somewhere in the cellars."

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. She drew him in, with her dark eyes and her sharp tongue and her deep feelings.

There was a knock at the door. They both jumped, jerking their hands apart. Wide-eyed Mircea and Lucius communicated quickly through a few glances. Mircea dove under the bed and Lucius extended the comforter so that it pooled on both sides of the bed, hiding her from view.

The door opened and Severus Snape entered, followed by Bellatrix.

"Ah," Severus's deep tones reached Mircea under the bed, "I see you are still among the living."

"Is that the reason you and this harpy have decided to interrupt my rest and recovery? To see if had died?"

"I was only too glad to come and check," Bella spat back at him. "You have no idea how disappointed I am."

"Oh, I'm sure I have some idea."

There were scuffling sounds and then Lucius's voice again. "Keep a leash on your cat, Severus.

"If we're offering advice, curb your tongue, Malfoy." Mircea heard Severus step closer to the bed. "It seems most unlikely that you should have survived the night unaided. And as your son is at my home…"

"It was not easy, but I managed." Mircea heard Lucius shifting around above her. "See for yourself."

Out of Mircea's vision, Snape winced at the scar. "You couldn't have done better, Malfoy?"

"As you said, it was a rush job. And the elves, of course, helped. Just finished some blood replacement potion if you would like a glass. How about you, Bella? You're looking a bit peaked."

A string of swearing followed and Mircea saw Bella's shoes storm out of the room. To her left, Mircea heard Snape lean closer to Lucius.

"And if I were to look for a certain Romanian witch? She would have nothing to say about last night's events?"

"Witch slept through the whole thing. I only managed to land on the lawn." There was a pause and then: "Oh please, Severus. You've never been better than me at Legilimency. Let's not play this game."

"Very well. I shall speak to the Dark Lord." Snape left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Mircea lay in the dusty darkness for several full minutes before performing a person revealing charm that indicated only her and Lucius for several rooms. She climbed out as gracefully as possible and was surprised when Lucius even helped her up.

"He never could get into my mind."

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Lying. It's not you who would be in trouble."

"My pleasure. Anything to upset Bella."

They shared a smirk and then Mircea Disapparated to the gardens. Better to have been out of the house entirely than risk appearing in a room with Snape or Bella.

* * *

Death Eater meetings were becoming more and more common as the takeover of the Ministry drew ever closer. And now there were rumors that Potter would have to be moved very soon. The protections on his family home would end when he came of age and if all went according to plan, Hogwarts would no longer be a haven for him.

So Mircea was not surprised when she was ordered to appear at a last minute meeting in the dining hall of the Manor. She slipped into Death Eater robes, much more form fitting than she liked, and whisked her hair back tightly. She knew she would be protected as long as Lucius was willing to lie for her; she had removed the memories from her own mind and stored them away separate from those of her family. He was the only other person she had ever done this for.

Mircea was surprised to see Lucius standing at the head of the table, facing Voldemort, when she entered the hall. He was back to the grayish color she now associated with illness or fear and his eyes only darted to her for a moment.

"Ah… Mircea… Come here."

The Dark Lord's voice was halfway between a sigh and a hiss, pulling out the C in her name in a way that gave her chills. She walked briskly so she was standing slightly in front of Lucius, rather than beside him, and dropped swiftly to one knee. She felt a long, bony hand run over her forehead, down under her chin, and lightly grasp her neck, lifting her head up to look at the red eyes.

"Why can I not see your mind, Mircea?"

"My Lord, measures were taken long ago for my own protection. This is unrelated to any possible current event."

"You sound as if you do not know what event I could wish to see. Do not play games with me!"

"My Lord, I only know because I saw Malfoy this morning, as it is my duty to look after him."

The hand clenched around her neck. The rest of the cloaked men and women in the room were breathless. Mircea stood quickly as Voldemort yanked her upright.

"Show me your memories of last night."

"I cannot, My Lord."

The room took a collective breath and behind her; Lucius looked wild eyed. He was convinced she was now going to die.

But Mircea had planned her words carefully before she ever left her room. "My Lord, it is not rebellion. There are no memories to show. I was asleep all of last night. I did not even dream."

He let go of her throat roughly and her hands went to her neck reflexively, coughing for breath.

"Sit."

Both Mircea and Lucius scurried to seats at opposite ends of the table from one another. She almost could not believe it had ended there. The Dark Lord was clearly suspicious of her and last night must have been some kind of test.

The Dark Lord's eyes rested on her and she looked downward, half out of deference and half out of pure fear. Nothing good came of that long gaze.

"There are other matters to attend to," the Dark Lord announced at last. "I have particular desire to…speak with the master wandmaker. As Bella and Fenrir are busy with their own tasks, we are in need of volunteers."

Antonin and Mircea exchanged looks. Mihut was the master wandmaker on their end of Europe, in close competition with Gregorovich in the higher north. Other than this gesture, the room was silent and immobile. 'Volunteers' were generally chosen by Voldemort himself, excepting Bellatrix and Severus. But this was not the sort of work Severus would be sent to do.

"Antonin… Mircea… Rowle… You will be sufficient. Brains and brawn…"

Mircea groaned inwardly, but made an effort to keep her face impassive. Rowle was an idiot and, aside from origin, she and Antonin had nothing in common.

"Olivander is to be brought to this Manor and kept in custody. No one is to speak to him; he is to be kept silent. Malfoy!"

Lucius jumped, his ring banging against the table so loudly it sounded like a gunshot in the tense room.

"Where might our guest be lodged?"

Lucius's brain felt as if it were spinning without any control from him. He stammered an answer so unintelligible that he knew to brace himself. The expected wave of pain hit, jerking him rigid against his chair. When he was allowed to relax, he saw Mircea staring hard at the wall at the other end of the room.

"Surely you can answer a simple question. Where?"

"The cellars, My Lord. There is an Apparation block as well." He fought to control the quavering in his voice.

"Very well." The Dark Lord stood and they all rose as one. "Until next time…" His red eyes were boring into Malfoy. "Draco."

The boy jumped, going even whiter.

"You shall also go to pay Mr. Olivander a visit. It may do you some good."

Both father and son wore the same look of alarm on their faces as the Dark Lord swept out of the room.

* * *

Mircea was unlocking the door to her room when someone grabbed her from behind.

Lucky for Lucius, he grabbed her wrists in his hands before she could get to her wand; if she had kept it in her sleeve he would have been done for. He pressed close against her, his mouth only centimeters from her ear.

"You must protect him."

Mircea was swept away by the sudden vision of Lucius dragging her to his rooms and taking her this way, with her pinned against him and his lips against her ear. She blushed deeply and shoved the image away.

She jerked free of Lucius's grip and faced him. "Why?"

"We are bound together now, you and I." Lucius's eyes bored into her. "And he is my son."

"This is not the place for this conversation," she hissed at him, her eyes darting up and down the corridor.

Lucius simply stared at her. He wasn't going away. He knew he was being punished for what the Dark Lord assumed happened with Mircea and for his own fears, but he would not allow Draco to be killed over this.

Mircea could see from his expression what he was thinking and she sighed loudly. She turned unlocked the door and shoved him inside in front of her. She motioned for him to be silent and began to spell the room. As she worked he looked around. This was the third time he had ever been in her rooms and the first time he really noticed what it was like. She had claimed one of the guest rooms with a small sitting room to the right; the room itself was spacious and was covered in books, scrolls, and different objects like a Foe-Glass. He could see his own shadowy figure in the ball, but the eyes were not white; it would appear she could not quite make up her mind about what he was.

Mircea grabbed a handful of his robes and dragged him away, into the sitting room. He allowed himself to be led by her, because like it or not he needed her now. The sitting room was plush and warm, with dark brown sofas and a cozy, golden armchair he knew had come from one of the sitting rooms downstairs. The fire had already been started by the house elves and Mircea released him in the center of the room, striding to the coziest chair herself.

He watched her as she curled up easily in the chair. Sighing, she reached up, seeming to forget he was present and pulled a comb from her hair. The curls cascaded down her back, settling around her in thick waves that caught the light from the fire. While it had always looked a sort of dun color, in the firelight it was nearly golden. In these much more fitted robes and with her hair framing her face, she looked natural and vulnerable. Mircea pushed the hair out of her face and turned to look at him.

"Explain, first, that audacious comment about being _bound _to you."

Lucius could not repress a sneer. "Our survival depends on one another. What else would you call that, _Persephone_?"

The subtext was as clear as his words: their relationship had gone deeper than simply two people who lived in the same house.

"If you were to tell the Dark Lord–"

"It would be to save my son and I would care very little for my own safety."

She could see his eyes and for a moment felt as if she could see his soul. He meant it. Coward that he was, he would have given his life to save his son.

"And the fact that you owe me your life?"

"I lied for you. I would not have lied for my _wife_ in so bold a manner."

They sat across from one another, the fire playing off their faces. It made Lucius's face look alarmingly like a skull when he inclined his head down, away from the light. Mircea thought hard. She had made her choice last night and she had considered what it would mean.

"Very well."

Lucius looked up, the fire lighting his face back into human likeness. "Truly?"

Mircea nodded slowly. "Understand this: if you betray me, I will kill you if the Dark Lord does not."

There was another deepening silence as Lucius sized her up. He believed she would kill him and he believed she would do it as dispassionately as if she were killing a mouse. But he could see no other way to move forward. There had to be agreement or constant fear of their secret being leaked, and he could not live with more fear. And not from her of all people…

"You will have nothing to fear from me." He could still feel Mircea examining him. "You can trust me."

She laughed sarcastically and supported her chin in her palm, resting against the arm of the chair. "I will protect your son. You don't have to lie, Malfoy."

Again that familiar look of anger and frustration clouded his face and he stood abruptly.

"Well, seeing as our business is done I shall not disturb you any longer," he snapped at her with a sneer. He was gone before she could stop him.

Mircea laid her head on the arm of her chair. Why had she pushed him away?

_Because he's a coward who will turn you in as soon as it suits him_, her brain mocked. _And he's part of it all, part of the system that killed your family and took everything from you. It is unforgivable._

But Mircea was not convinced.

* * *

"Will you _shut up_?" Mircea hissed behind her, before swearing in Romanian. Trust Rowle and Dolohov to chit-chat on a mission.

Draco banged into her for the hundredth time and she shot him a look of pure venom. The boy was sticking so close to her that she had mockingly asked if he wanted to hold hands. But she knew this was what Lucius had told him to do.

They had made it through Diagon Alley only by the grace of silencing spells and invisibility charms and now they lurked in the alley behind Olivander's wand shop. Movement came from within and the four Death Eaters ducked. Light shone above their heads and Mircea peeked over the sill. An unknown man was speaking to the old wizard they had come for. She turned to explain to the two men but they were already breaking into the house. Hissing warnings at them, she pushed Draco behind her and followed.

The two wizards inside were taken completely off guard. But being in a wand shop, it was not as if they were unarmed. Mircea found herself dueling the assistant while Rowle and Dolohov were attempting to overwhelm the wandmaker. She felt a curse flash by her face, leaving a welt from the heat of it. Draco shrieked girlishly and dodged the same curse as it hit a beam, bursting into flame.

A smirk spread across the assistant's face. But his expression changed quickly as a ball of fire engulfed him from behind. Dolohov had aimed the curse, Ever-Burning Fire, after having subdued Olivander. The man began to scream and writhe, skin blistering and blackening.

The flashback hit Mircea with full force and no warning, yanking her back into the partial memories that she still possessed of the night her father died.

"_Avada Kadavra!_"

The man fell, dead, and the fire quickly went out.

"You are no fun, Mircea," Rowle griped as he dragged Olivander out of the building in front of him.

Dolohov sneered at her as he followed Rowle. "We already had him. No need to be jealous."

Draco began to follow them, then deciding to hang back. His father had told him to stay with her. So Draco was the only one who saw Mircea slump backward, supporting herself against a shelf of wands. She was deathly white and her gaze was fixed inward.

"Mircea?"

She felt someone grip her arm at the elbow, helping support her. She looked into Draco's concerned face and shame flooded her. She had to hold it together for now. This boy was half her age and she was supposed to be protecting him; he should not be caring for her.

"Something in the spell," she mumbled, gingerly touching her cheek and brushing by him.

* * *

After checking over his son and hearing his account of the evening, Lucius finally decided it was his duty to thank Mircea. They had an agreement, but it would not do to piss her off. And Draco was clearly editing out some significant piece of information; he was a terrible liar and it was obvious.

He ordered his son to stay well out of sight of the other Death Eaters, not wishing to draw more attention to either of them, and he slipped down the halls. He was only half focused on where he was going when he realized a muffled and pained sound was coming from Mircea's room. Lucius paused outside the door, listening.

Someone was crying. Not just crying, but sobbing.

The very idea that Mircea could be crying with such feeling shocked him into interfering where he never would have before. Pushing open the door he strode to her in several long steps. She was crouched on the floor, biting down on her fist to muffle the sound. He scooped her into his arms easily and carried her through to her sitting room. There he set her on the small couch, sitting beside her and throwing silencing charms around the room. It was almost a surprise no one had found her sooner with no silencing on the room; it had been an hour since she had returned with Draco and Olivander.

He produced a silk handkerchief and she took it, using that instead to muffle her sobs. Lucius felt awkward simply sitting beside her, but very gradually she calmed and quieted. When she looked him in the face finally, she looked very fragile: her eyes were red rimmed and her face was splotchy and wet.

"I'll return," he murmured, standing and watching her carefully. "Unless…"

"I'll be here."

That was all the confirmation he needed and he slipped away. Mircea fought the urge to cry again. Her cheek hurt like the devil with her hot tears and the fire glowing on it.

Shortly Lucius returned with several items in his arms. The first thing he handed to her was a salve in a silver jar. "For your burn," he explained.

She nodded shakily and applied it to her cheek. The burning dulled immediately and she could feel the welt receding dramatically.

The next thing that was put into her hands was a large glass of deep red wine.

Lucius had claimed the cozy armchair and he raised his glass in a sort of toast to her before drinking. She sipped at it, not entirely trusting him, and was surprised at the quality of the wine.

"What is this?"

"Superior Red," Lucius replied holding the dusty bottle out to her. She took it, looking over the fairly old label.

"Malfoy Apothecaries," she read aloud. "Your family?"

"My great-great-grandfather laid this wine aside. And the Apothecary dates back further than that."

"Impressive. The wine and the lineage."

Malfoy allowed a rare smile. He was proud of the apothecary and the vineyards. But with the way things were going, he wondered if he would ever be able to go back to all of that.

Mircea could see the wistful look take hold of his features. "Is that what you would be doing if you were not…" She trailed off; it was dangerous to voice the desire for another life, even in a spelled room.

Lucius nodded and then sighed loudly. "Room's a furnace," he mumbled, pulling at his necktie and unbuttoning his collar buttons.

Suddenly Mircea could see why he had always kept his neck so deliberately covered. A series of black numbers and runes stood out against the white skin, sharp and garish. Lucius realized his mistake too late and quickly began to attempt to cover the brand. But Mircea leaned forward and caught his hands in hers. Slowly, she stood and ran her fingers across the numbers on his neck. Lucius's breath caught at the contact.

"You have no reason to hide scars from me, Malfoy." As soon as it had happened, it was over.

Lucius returned to their previous conversation, leaving his neck uncovered. "You know my desired occupation. What of yours? What is your peacetime profession?"

She flashed him a smile. "I know no such thing. I simply know you would like to have something to do with the family business."

He took a long draught of wine to steel himself; he had not had a personal conversation in a very long time. "I would wish to be a Potioneer. I am very good at it and it is what I enjoy. Any salve, potion, or draught you find in this home I made myself. The vineyards were my father's passion, not mine, though obviously they would not go to waste."

Mircea had been sipping at her own glass and now set it aside. It was very strong indeed. "I have never been in a position to give it much thought. I know you may weary of hearing this, but my life has not allowed such luxuries. My skill set is not marketable."

"And what would that be?"

Mircea met his steely grey eyes. How could she articulate years of injustice? From Grindlewald to her own parents?

"Finding, hiding, and bringing things down."

"And this is why you are now a Death Eater? Not for immortality or power, but some sense of vengeance?"

"Justice!" she shot back, her eyes flashing. "Sorry it isn't as noble as your own lust for power and powerful friends."

Lucius leaned forward. With the look that was in his eyes, she was sure he would have slapped her a few months ago for that comment. "Lust it may have once been. But your twisted justice will end no better, my dear. Make no mistake."

"You have no idea–"

"You're right," he cut her off. "And if you wish to have any sympathy you will have to explain. Otherwise, cease holding this mysterious wrong that has been done to you over my head. _I've _done you no harm."

He watched Mireca stare into the fire. Somehow he knew this was the cause of her break down: the event that had so hurt and so defined her.

She spoke unemotionally, telling the entire story in one go. "My mother was a Dark witch, a follower of Grindlewald. My father had once been sympathetic, but Grindlewald began to take out his wrath on his own people. So my father felt that they should pull out, that her involvement was a direct danger to me. He was afraid that I would be sucked into the same way of life. The Ministry contacted him – somehow they had gotten wind that my father was looking for an out – and promised him security and protection if he turned her over to them. They said they simply wanted to help us and Eastern Europe and that no one would find us. They lied, of course. The Aurors killed my mother; they had her kill herself but it was murder all the same. And then they left my father to contend with my mother's cohorts himself. He succeeded for some time, but when I visited him in Paris… they tortured me until he arrived, giving me my scars, and burned him alive in front of me."

Mircea locked eyes with Lucius. "My family was betrayed by the Ministry: my mother was killed by their Aurors, my father was killed by their lies, and I was left and orphan and a biter, hateful woman. I was promised that, should I join this war, Eastern Europe would be put at the forefront of the new Ministry. There is nothing I want more than to walk through the halls of the Ministry after all those within are dead."

Throughout this addition to her story, Mircea's voice had dropped to a low growl and Lucius could nearly picture her standing on a pile of rubble and surveying the abandoned and ghostly Ministry with pride.

"You saw a man burned alive as your father was burned alive." It came together as Lucius said it –why she had been crying – and Mircea nodded, her eyes glassy again.

A wave of very real guilt swept over Lucius. She was right; this was nothing like his own life experience. His own experience had included a father who continually ridiculed his weaknesses and pushed him to seek out more powerful people. And no matter how high he had risen, his father always found flaw, right up until Abraxas's untimely death. Lucius had actually been surprised the elm wand had been passed to him and not straight to Draco. But Draco was very young at the time and now… he was even weaker than Lucius.

Mircea watched Lucius's musings and could have guessed his mind. She had guessed a long time ago, after their first rather explosive dinner, that Lucius had felt intimidated or scorned by his father. He had reacted so violently to her comment, just as she had taken deep offense at being called a traitor.

"Life has been unjust to us both, has it not?" Lucius asked quietly.

Mircea nodded solemnly and Lucius stood, gathering up the glasses and the bottle. When he reached the door to leave though Mircea caught his attention.

"Thank you," she murmured, not meeting his eyes and turning toward the fire and away from him.

* * *

Mireca woke up with a slamming headache and decided to stay in for breakfast. But the little house-elf that brought her breakfast was so distracted that she could not help but ask if something had happened.

"It has, miss," the little creature whimpered.

"Do tell!" she snapped at it, worry flooding her.

"The…The Dark Lord, miss. He is here."

Mircea was too taken aback to even respond. She sat back heavily and her vision swam momentarily. Voldemort here.

"Miss…would you like a restorative potion?"

"No. You may leave."

The house-elf hurried away and Mircea stared at her tea and toast, suddenly feeling sick. She had to get out of bed and somehow dress. She pulled her self over to her wardrobe, stopping here and there from lightheadedness, and eventually managed to dress in one of her better gowns. With quick wand swipes she piled the curls up and tied a ribbon around her head. A glance in the mirror was all she gave herself before forcing herself to leave her room.

When she entered the dining room, things looked about how she had expected. Lucius had a busted lip and a slash across his neck that was bleeding into his collar. Draco was cowering by Bella, who was stroking his hair in a poisonous way. The Dark Lord paused, wand in the air and turned to her.

Mircea dropped to one knee instantly. "My Lord, I was told you had graced us with your presence."

"See, Lucius," she heard him say in his cold slithery voice, "someone knows how to greet their master. Come here, Mircea."

As she swished closer, Lucius saw that her dress style had updated by about 50 years, now putting her more in the 1920's. The empire-waist deep red dress was very becoming and helped dull the scar that was very visible on her arm in the short sleeves. He shielded his mind quickly; he was in enough trouble for such thoughts.

Mircea stopped beside her master and a wave of pain brought her to the ground.

"Explain to me why Lucius has such fond memories of you."

"Memories from when, My Lord? Last night he aided me after the raid on Olivander's but that was all."

"Aided how?"

She looked up so Voldemort could see the burn on her cheek. "Never fear, My Lord; I'm sure he would stab me in the back given proper incentive." Mircea knew her words carried conviction because she did believe them. If Draco were threatened she was sure Lucius would turn her in; he probably would do so for even less than that.

Mircea was hit with another wave of pain and she could see her muscles twisting like living snakes beneath her skin.

"I am beginning to wonder if you are not more trouble than you are worth, witch," the Dark Lord hissed coolly when she lay panting. There was a long pause where no one dared to move, not even Bella. When he spoke it was to the entire group: "It would appear that things have become sloppy in several quarters without my direct supervision." Here Bella winced, and Mircea noticed a cut across the side of her face that the witch's bushy hair mostly hid. "I will be taking up residency at Malfoy Manor, Lucius. See that preparations are made."

He stalked out of the room, Bella and Draco in tow, and Mircea rushed out of the opposite door. She could not be alone with Lucius. She was sure that she would run to him and this was absolutely forbidden now. She reached a sitting room on the first floor and had to stop within. Her stomach ached and the pain was great enough that she could not keep walking. Something creaked in the hall and she jumped, paranoia rocketing. No one was there, but now she would always have to worry. She would never be able to rest easy or let her guard down. Suddenly the room felt very close and she fell into a chair, fanning herself with a hand.

Moments later, Mircea fainted for the first time in years.

Everyone had left Lucius on the floor and now he stood shakily. This was a nightmare. The Dark Lord in his home; he knew he would have to give over the Lord of the Manor title and what little power he had would be gone. He Apparated into his private study and pulled out a bottle of whisky from the amenities globe in the corner of the room. Pulling out the stopper, Luicus poured himself a very generous glass, shaking so bad that he spilled a good amount as well. He threw back the amber liquid in one, eyes watering with the burn. He sank into his chair at his desk and lay with his head on his arms. His mind whirled in a haze for a half an hour before he felt as though he could move from the chair he was in. And when he did stand he was still shaking badly.

What had helped in the past? He looked over at the humidor in the study. Narcissa had hated his smoking. But Narcissa was dead and his world was falling apart.

Only after he was engulfed in a cloud of blue smoke did Lucius feel he could stand without shaking. Cutting off the cigar, he stored what was left in a pocket. He needed to find his son.


	7. Chapter 7: Sleep

******Chapter 7: Sleep**

Mircea was walking to the dinning hall when she heard the sounds of someone being violently sick.

It was the first meeting that had occurred since Voldemort had moved into the Manor. Lucius had stayed hidden as much as humanly possible and Mircea had taken the opposite approach of trying to carry on as usual. She had noticed that the Dark Lord spent much of his time interrogating the wandmaker, but for what purpose she did not know. She assumed it had to do with some previous event, but she was new and had no way of referring back to what that might have been.

She paused in the hall and looked for whose door the vile sound was coming from. Malfoy. She groaned inwardly and began to walk by, but she could only remember how he had carried her into her sitting room after finding her crying on her floor. With a groan of defeat, she pushed into his room.

Mercifully, he was in the bathroom, but it was quickly clear why he was so sick. A mostly empty bottle of whisky sat at the bedside table and the air was blue with smoke. The whole room now had a stale and sour air to it.

She quickly started throwing the windows open magically. "Is your plan to destroy yourself so that the Dark Lord does not need to bother with it?"

She heard someone jump in alarm and swear. Lucius's head appeared around the corner. His eyes were sunken and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

"This isn't the drink if that's what you're thinking," he snapped viciously at her before turning a little green and ducking back in. There was another wet lurching sound and Mircea winced from where she now stood by the window.

After a flushing sound, Lucius trudged across the room and flopped on his back onto his bed. His breathing was fast and shallow.

"As you would appear to have not eaten in several days, that is exactly what I thought," she retorted, hoping to irritate him. An angry Lucius was better than a frightened one. "But by all means, drink. No need to explain to _me_ why you're trying to self-destruct."

She walked through the bathroom and wetted a washcloth before tossing it onto his face. He snarled at her but laid it across his forehead with a sigh.

"Not all of us can throw ourselves at the Dark Lord's feet and avoid trouble," he grumbled, causing Mircea to blush.

That was exactly what she was doing and she hated herself for it. But she knew it was the only way that she could appease the Dark Lord's temper and need for submission. She watched Lucius rotate the washcloth on his forehead so it was now cool side down. Mircea wanted to help him more directly, to mop his brow and fix his mussed hair, which was now bordering on too long, but she did not think he would sufficiently suppress the memory so she stayed where she was.

"Why does he hate you so singularly?" she asked, staring at the rug. She didn't expect him to answer but he did.

"I destroyed old items of his that proved to be important. And I lost a valuable prophecy."

"And that's why he wants you so…isolated?"

"A kind way of putting it. He wants me as miserable and low as he can get me. And he's nearly done it."

It made Mircea's heart ache a bit to hear his despair. She knew Lucius had once been great but she could only see little glimmers of that person when they were alone. And the moment Voldemort appeared, Lucius cowered like a beaten animal.

"You'll make it through. Old serpents like you never die."

"I doubt I can make it through this very evening, let alone another year."

"Then look only at me." Lucius had an expression she did not, would not, understand and she pushed on. "I can't have you caving in on me and I have reserved the right to kill you myself. Remember that."

"I will," he murmured in a voice that made her blush.

"I've got to get out of here. Whatever you do come down a different way and wait until I've been gone a while."

When Mircea entered the now jumbled and barren dining hall she immediately noticed the body hanging over the table. But she did not look at it more than once, knowing that it was better to wait for Voldemort himself to comment or draw attention to such things. A roar came from below her feet and she winced. The Dark Lord must be there now. She took a seat in the center of the table as Dolohov and Rodolphus eyed her.

"Rumor has it," Rodolphus whispered, leaning towards her, "that you saved Malfoy's life."

She looked at him unwaveringly. "As you say, rumor has it. And rumor has it you're an empty headed prick who takes orders from his wife and is cuckolded daily. You know how rumors are."

Lestrange turned red and Dolohov sniggered from where he sat. Mircea went back to staring in front of her but was surprised to see Lucius in that place now. He had taken something for his nausea and looked better for it though he was still trembling intermittently.

The room filled and Draco and Bella filled in the seats on either side of Lucius. Mircea ended up with an empty chair for Yaxley on her left and McNair on her right.

Snape and Yaxley were very nearly late as the Dark Lord reminded them with cold joy. But Mircea was pleased to see that her strategies had worked; Thicknesse was there and Imperiused into perfect submission. They should be able to take the Ministry any day now, a point Yaxley fought to emphasize. This was the first real good news Mircea had received in ages.

There was also the news that Potter would have to be moved very soon. This gave them a window in which they could capture the boy. And if they could capture the boy, everything else was much easier.

But as always, things took a more negative turn.

"I find I am in need of a new wand," the Dark Lord hissed, staring them all down. Each and every one of them made a motion, involuntarily, towards where their wands were currently kept. His chair scraped back against the stone floor and he began to walk down the table. As soon as Voldemort picked the side opposite of her, Mircea knew whose wand he was going to take. Her heart fell and she realized even she had not seen this coming. Lucius had been wrong: he could still sink lower.

Lucius knew too and he looked at her desperately just for a moment. His grey eyes were dark with fear.

"Luciussssss," came the familiar hiss, now over his right shoulder. Lucius felt a cold sweat break out over his face and arms and for a brief moment he worried he was going to be sick again. But he could see Mircea in the corner of his vision and unlike the other eyes now trained on him, her eyes were sympathetic. "Give me your wand."

Again he glanced at her, and he saw her straighten and tilt her chin upward. She was telling him to be strong. Shaking he drew out his wand, his father's wand, and handed it to the Dark Lord. His long white fingers traced over it and examined the tool.

"What is it?"

"Elm, m-m-my Lord."

"And the core?"

"Dragonheartstring." Lucius blurred it into one word in his effort to just make the sounds.

"Eighteen inches?"

Lucius nodded.

"A bit large for you, isn't it?"

There were sneers down the table. Without thinking he moved as if to hold out his hand and checked the action too late.

"Oh no, Lucius. You will remain…unmanned."

Again there were sneers and laughter. Lucius stared straight ahead, he saw Mircea's color rise momentarily and her jaw clenched.

"It would seem I should be offering yourself and Bella congratulations, however," the Dark Lord announced, returning to his chair.

"My Lord?" Bella could hardly restrain herself from asking.

"Your niece has married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. Draco…"

The boy jumped and turned white, diverting his attention from the body hanging above them.

"Will you be babysitting the cubs?"

Now the laughter was loud, unintelligent guffaws. Mircea locked eyes with Lucius and forced him to hold eye contact with her. Of course it was vile. But it was not Draco's fault or Lucius's fault. And they were only related to this girl through Bella and Narcissa anyway; Bella was now of course making long promises to "prune her family tree."

As for Lucius, her eye contact kept him from sinking to the floor. He had a sympathizer. Not a co-sufferer like his son, but someone who felt for him or who at least seemed determined to drag him through this even if only for her own safety.

The woman was floated down and they were all told that she was Charity Burbage and that she had proposed that it would be good for Pure Bloods to marry mudbloods and Muggles. Mircea wrinkled her nose involuntarily. It was also explained that Charity had taught at Hogwarts, which explained why Draco was now studying the floor with such intensity. All this Mircea could handle, but the woman pleading with Severus cut through the emotional armor Mircea had built up for so long. Luckily Burbage's suffering was not long and her death was merciful. Who said the Dark Lord could not be kind?

But when she was eaten, not a single Death Eater watched.

* * *

Lucius lay in bed, fighting off sleep with a cigar. But a creak outside his door had him awake instantly and he went for his non-existent wand. He had never felt so naked and vulnerable as he did when the door swung opened with him unarmed on the other side.

But to his amazement it was Mircea who slipped into the room and shut the door. She looked as though she felt as exposed as him. She was barefoot and in black pajamas, a contrast to her fair hair and skin.

"Put that thing out," she murmured to him, and he stubbed out the cigar as she had ordered mostly out of shock.

"Why are you here?"

"I have a proposition. You clearly cannot sleep and you are well on your way to a much shorter life. I feel as though I will have a hole clear through my stomach in a week and if I do not sleep I fear for my mental capacities, without which I am no longer needed."

Lucius watched her without moving. He understood but he could not guess what she was about to propose.

"I believe it would be in both of our interests to share the same bed. It may help to have another near you and as you have no wand you may feel safer."

"And how would this benefit you?"

"I jump at every sound and I feel I am coming unhinged. I need someone I can trust."

"Which in this scenario would be me?"

She nodded, blushing. If he turned her down, she had gone out on a very far limb for no reason and would die of humiliation. "It would also need to be understood that you would not touch me. Ever."

"Of course. You _are_ only asking to sleep with me. Why would I think that?"

There was fire in her eyes when she looked up. "Go to hell, you bastard," she hissed between gritted teeth, turning to leave.

He moved quicker than she thought he would and pulled her away from the door.

"Stay." His eyes were pleading and she let go of the door handle. He gestured to the large bed behind him.

"Not until you voice agreement. I'll not be betrayed."

She could see Lucius stiffen. He must have understood how this could help him, how he may be able to sleep again and rest, but he rankled at the idea of having to say what he wanted.

"We shall enter into a mutually beneficial partnership wherein you sleep in my bed without either of us coming into contact with one another, under the assumption this will help us be in the arms of Morpheus once again."

Mircea could not help but smile. "There's the arrogant reprobate I know."

Lucius felt warmth seep through his weary body at the affection in her words. Without looking at him, Mircea climbed into the bed, taking the side he had not occupied earlier. He realized he was still fully dressed and decided this was a bit awkward. Digging through some drawers he pulled out some silk pajama pants and a cotton shirt, and changed quickly in the bathroom. When he returned, the lights were all off except for a lamp by his side of the bed.

Mircea was curled up on her side, her curls fanned out around her and her wand as close to her as possible. Her eyes followed his journey to his side of the bed, noting that his frame was more pronounced in the pajamas.

He slid under the covers and lay on his back, carefully avoiding contact with her. They lay this way for some minutes, both listening to the crackle from the embers in the fireplace and the breathing of the person next to them.

What ran through their heads was a very similar refrain of either, "There is a _woman_ in my bed; a woman I swore to loathe," or, "I am in Lucius Malfoy's bed. The same man I very seriously considered killing not a month ago." And yet, Mircea wanted to be there and Lucius wanted her to stay.

"Good night, then, Persephone," Lucius said at length before rolling onto his side.

"Noapte bună," she replied, eyelids heavy. She pulled the covers up under her chin and allowed herself to sink into the nothingness that was pulling her into the night.

* * *

Movement next to her woke Mircea. Her brain came to wakefulness very slowly. She had slept. Bless Merlin and all of his whiskers she had slept. She buried her face in the pillow, enjoying the sensation of coziness that had eluded her for so very long. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of cologne from the sheets and pillow.

Cologne!

Mircea was awake with her heart slamming and rolled over in an instant, greeted with the sight of Lucius Malfoy reading the paper in bed, a pince-nez perched on his nose. She could feel she was still dressed in her pajamas so what was going on?

Lucius looked over at her shocked expression and laughed easily. He too had slept deeply and he felt rested for the first time in a year and a half.

"I had a similar reaction on finding your long curls peeking out from my bed sheets." Lucius had acted similarly only in the fact that he was surprised. Mircea had been shocked that she was in his bed at all. Lucius had not been surprised that she was there, but dismayed. How often had he absently fantasized about her, or even occasionally dreamed about her? But to actually _do it_…he had never intended to go through with anything. So on waking with her next to him, his first thoughts were that he had finally gone too far and to question how much had had drunk the previous evening. But she did not need to know this, nor would she ever find out.

"I decided it would be rude to leave you alone, not to mention unsafe. I hope you do not mind. Tea?" Lucius continued, reaching over to the bedside table and offering her a steaming cup.

Mircea pushed herself into a sitting position and took the cup gratefully. She remembered what she had done and could hardly believe she had ever proposed such a thing. But it had worked. Not for the first time, she wondered what Lucius must have been like in his prime; after a good night's sleep he was positively charming.

"This needn't continue if you find it to be–" Mircea began.

"I would prefer it did," he interrupted, looking at her over his glasses.

Lucius watched her as she drank her tea before going back to his paper. The Ministry was still keeping much of the Death Eater and Dark activity quiet. The Ministry's fear of losing control had helped the last time and it would help them again. As long as they were stupid enough to hide what people needed to know, the Death Eaters could continue going about in broad daylight.

He folded up his paper and stretched languidly, before getting out of bed. As sad as it was, he did actually have to get up; every moment they spent together and awake was a danger to both of them. He began to brush his long hair out in an attempt to pull it back, but the silky strands never wanted to stay back and half of them always got away from him. It always took him a horribly long time to do this.

"Would you like assistance?"

Lucius jumped; he had become wrapped up in his thoughts and forgotten she was there at all. His gut reaction was to refuse her help on behalf of his pride. But she had come to him last night and he had already begged her protection for his son. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her and passed her the brush. She worked efficiently, her long fingers easily gathering up loose hairs and managing the black ribbon as well. Her hands were cool and her nails tickled his scalp. When she had finished he looked over her work in a nearby mirror.

"My appreciation, Persephone."

Mircea blushed at the use of her first name with such a tone. "I am always here to cover your ineptitudes."

"Of which there are very few," he replied quickly and with a small smirk.

"Well as much as I would love to stay and trade insults with you, I am going to leave. Thank you for a good night's sleep." She gave him a mock curtsey in the center of the room and the melted away nearly silently. Lucius watched the spot for a moment, a smile playing on his lips.

* * *

Without any further discussion, the arrangement became ritual. Each night, after all others had gone to bed, Mircea would appear in Lucius's room and they would get what sleep they could.

The effects were quick: both lost the deep circles under their eyes and their complexions became more rosy though still pale. Lucius smoked much less, though he still drank, and Mircea's hysteria was quelled. The only problem that continually presented itself was that of who woke first. Nine times out of ten it was Mircea and there was little for her to do in Lucius's room and boredom made her a horrible snoop.

Mircea awoke one morning while Lucius was still sleeping, snoring softly, and tiptoed over to the vanity table. Pictures were piled up on the table, still left from a cleaning and reframing spree of Narcissa's before Lucius's arrest, and Mircea had been dying to look through them.

As she had suspected about half of them were from Malfoy's school days and the other half were from early in their marriage. There were pictures of he and Narcissa at a dance and pictures of them with a tiny baby Draco.

She flipped through them slowly, tilting the moving pictures towards the candlelight. In the pictures with Narcissa and Bella and the others from his Hogwarts days, Lucius's figure lounged about with an arm protectively around Narcissa. In the later photos, his wife doted on their baby while he looked on with an expression that tried to be fatherly in a removed way, but failed and gave away how adoring he really was.

One picture in particular caught her attention and she set the others aside. It was a shot of only Lucius from what must have been his sixth year at least; he was in full Quidditch gear, the green and silver of Slytherin, and holding a Quaffle. The flying goggles were pushed back on his head and his blonde hair was slipping out of the ponytail he wore it in. He joked with someone out of the frame and threw the ball at them. It hit him in the stomach with force a moment later and he laughed heartily.

"What have we here?"

It was fortunate they had spelled the room seeing as Mircea let out a shriek that made Lucius cover his ears. "Hell, Persephone. You go through my belongings and then attempt to deafen me. Ungrateful to say the least."

"I didn't hear you wake up," she growled at him, trying to hide the picture. "And stop calling me that."

"Why? You call me Lucius." He leaned against the vanity table, crossing his arms.

"Everyone calls you Lucius. It's different."

"I call you a name no one else calls you and you go through pictures of me that no one else sees. We are even."

She wanted to fight back but she had been caught red-handed so there really was not much that could be said in her defense. Mircea decided to change the topic.

"You played Quidditch?"

He nodded taking the picture from her and looking at it. A smile curved his lips. "Chaser." He continued to watch the photo. "I suppose you did not?"

"Hardly. Too much moving and adverse conditions. Chess was my game."

Lucius scooped the pictures off of the table and dumped them into a drawer before turning back to Mircea. "Your turn, witch."

"What are you blathering about Malfoy?" she asked in open annoyance.

"Surely you have some picture of yourself somewhere in your room. If my youth must be aired out, you will hardly escape the same fate."

"You must be kidding."

"Not hardly. Or you could always try bunking with Fenrir; he may be a bit more hands on than myself though."

Mircea made an attempt to slap him, but Lucius caught her wrist and only grinned in response.

"Wait then."

"Gladly."

Mircea was back in a few moments with two pictures in her hands. She handed them both to Lucius before sitting on the bed, her legs folded under her.

Lucius examined the top one first. It was a much younger Mircea: not more than fifteen years old. She was currently reading lying on her stomach on a beach, her hair frizzing into the halo he was now familiar with. A group of witches and wizards were building sand castles over her legs and the legs of someone next to her who was asleep. Intermittently, she would jostle her legs and send the castles crumbling.

"That was a vacation to the Black Sea," Mircea explained from the bed.

Lucius nodded and turned to the next picture. This was very clearly a family portrait. Mircea sat in the front, smiling in her secretive way, next to a gaunt woman with straight wheat-colored hair. Behind her, a curly headed man with Pushkin-esque sideburns grinned out at him. The picture had been developed the Muggle way so none of the figures moved.

"That was before my sixth year," Mircea explained quietly when she noticed him looking intensely at the picture. "That fall was the death of my mother and the spring my father died as well."

Lucius nodded, pity striking him. She had spent her entire adult life without parents and it had hardened her too early. _As my own life is hardening my son_, he thought to himself in anger.

"Stop it!" Mircea jumped up and yanked the pictures from him. He had begun to crumple them unintentionally in his anger. She smoothed out the small amount of wrinkling. "I should go," she continued, now feeling embarrassed.

"Perhaps…" Lucius agreed with no plain thought in his mind.

She Disapparated quietly. Lucius did not notice. He was looking at the picture of himself as a Chaser.

* * *

Two days later, Mircea was again caught prowling around Lucius's room, but this time she had stumbled across something she knew he would want.

She had been looking for parchment to scribble down an idea she had while trying to fall asleep. It annoyed her that there was none in the room and so she began to dig through the desk drawers.

It did not take her long to notice that the top drawer did not go as deep as it outwardly appeared; somewhere in the bottom of it there was a hidden section. Curiosity got the better of her and Lucius rolling onto his stomach convinced her he was not going anywhere. Running her fingers along the sides she discovered a hole of sorts in the side of the drawer. She had to slide her fingers into it to reach the back where there was a switch, and she knew it would be a risk to flip the lever. She could lose her fingers or worse.

Mircea flipped the lever, bracing herself, and there was a loud snap. Lucius shot up in bed, reaching mechanically for his missing wand. He saw Mircea pull her arm out of a drawer in his desk and stormed to her.

"Is there no end to your sneaking, witch?" he hissed at her, shoving her away from his desk. But a further tirade was cut short when his eye landed on what had shot out of the drawer. A thin hidden compartment had opened and within lay a simple, slightly worn, and pale wand.

Mircea watched his hand close around it and she knew it must have once been his. He examined it closely and then pointed it at the bed. The bed was engulfed in flames. He pointed again and it was as if the flames had never existed. His grey eyes locked on her.

"I cannot decide whether to curse you or thank you."

"Hardly the first time, I imagine."

That got him to crack a smile. "Now," he waved his wand at her, "if I find you touching one thing you should not be I can put you in your place."

"Oh, I imagine you'd have a harder time of that than you think," she teased back.

He eyed her, and for the first time he bit back a crass retort.

"Well, as I've done my one good deed for the day, I think I will be off."

"Sure you wouldn't like to rifle through my underwear drawer first?" he asked snidely.

"I was planning on saving that for tomorrow," she shot back before melting away.

* * *

_Reviews get previews! From this point out we will be solidly within the timeline of book 7. _


	8. Chapter 8: Captured

**Chapter 8: Captured**

Lucius had not been on a broom in years. Or at least not stayed on one, since the last time he was on one he fell off pretty directly. But he was more concerned with Mircea; she looked as though she had never felt comfortable with a broom. He zipped around her, trying to regain familiarity with the magical transport.

They had been told that tonight was the night. Severus had relayed the information two days ago and since then preparations had intensified significantly. The Ministry plans had to follow very closely on the tails of the attempt on Potter; if they eliminated him the Ministry would be weakened and if they didn't then there was little chance he would leave again for some time. And what better chance was there than a wedding where all the troublesome Order of the Phoenix would be present and therefore not at the Ministry?

"What in Merlin's name happened to your eye, Lucius?" Snape asked, pulling up beside his old friend.

Lucius touched the swollen purple lump his eye currently hid behind. "Mircea," was all he said.

Snape looked over his shoulder at the witch, who was busy tossing a ball and diving to catch it. When she noticed their glances, she shot Snape a very dirty look.

"I supposed you should count yourself lucky then," he sneered to Lucius before drifting off toward Yaxley.

It wasn't a lie. Mircea had purpled his eye with deft grace. But this time she had felt bad.

* * *

Lucius had found her shortly after the news had reached his ears about the plans for that evening.

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" had been her reply and she had continued looking for the book she needed.

"It has been years since I dueled with this wand."

"So you want practice? Go find your son. I'm busy."

"You know he's no match for me."

She quirked her eyebrows at him. "Someone's overconfident. Have you ever even seen your son duel?"

"No, but all accounts say he is horrible."

"Said with the same loathing I'm sure your father used when talking about your build and your talents."

Lucius always moved more quickly than she expected. He had her pinned against a wall by her wrists in moments.

"I do not enlighten you as to my private memories so you can fling them back at me," he growled.

"No, but you don't bother learning from them either."

His eyes glowed with anger and she was surprised he didn't strike her. But he did crush her wrists painfully as he slammed her back against the wall once again.

"Let go of me!"

"What?" he sneered. "Are you in over your head?"

"I said, LET. GO!" Mircea shoved him away with a blast of wandless magic he had not anticipated. Pulling out her wand she aimed it at a chair and sent it flying at him with all her might. It had connected with his eye, knocking him on his back. There was a stunned silence and she rushed to him. His eyebrow was gashed and he lay still.

"Oh Merlin! It thought you would dodge! Lucius, I'm so–"

Whatever she would have said was cut off as she was hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx. She knocked over a globe before falling over completely. It took her a moment to remember the counter curse, but when she did she saw Lucius standing at the other end of the room, wand pointed at her.

"Fight me, witch," he snapped at her, icily.

"Gladly, you whoreson dog."

Lucius's face went red and a wave rushed across the room at Mircea. A swirling column of fire, meeting the wave and causing a boiling maelstrom, was retaliation and it singed the hem of his robes. Tossing robes aside, an arrow shot out of his wand at her. She easily ducked, but when it embedded itself in the wall behind her tentacles began to whip out of the center. They latched on to Mircea, dragging her toward their core and blistering her skin where they made contact. She Petrified the grasping arms after sending a massive spider after Lucius. Poison dripped from its fangs as it went, burning holes in the carpet. Trying to blow it up only made it more angry and after several burns on his legs, Lucius was finally able to get rid of it. They began to send curses and hexes in a bristling cloud, each thrusting and parrying like fencers. Every so often a spell would go astray and a shelf would explode or a table ignite.

"Expeliarmus!"

Mircea's wand shot from her hand and she glowered. "Coward!"

"It's Potter's move, dear. You ought to know _that_."

"And a disarmed witch is far more dangerous. You should know _that_."

He opened his mouth to retort, but the room filled with darkness, catching his words in his throat. Mircea slammed her hands together and began to pull them apart slowly; crackling in between them was a growing ball of lightening. Lucius's eyes widened. She had mentioned skill in Dark Arts before but there had been no overt display until now.

The lightening flew at him and in a moment of inspiration he acted. A thin metal rod shot from his wand and the lightening darted off toward the metal instead, blowing a hole in the wall as the rod embedded itself there.

The pair were knocked off of their feet and across the room. Mircea landed on Lucius heavily, and his arms went around her mechanically. Even after dueling to draw blood, he still automatically protected her.

They lay in silence for a moment as the dust settled around them and they checked to makes sure all limbs and appendages were still present and accounted for. Lucius's arms were still tightly about her and she lay on top of him. Mircea looked down at him and began to laugh. He couldn't help but chuckle as well. She was covered in dust, there was a slash on her shoulder and welts on her arms, and he could hardly expect he looked any better.

"It would seem I've met my match." Her voice had a husky tone that surprised even her.

"I should say so," he replied, in equally deep tones.

Mircea felt a rush of heat and got up gracelessly but quickly. The last thing she needed was to be caught in an entanglement with Malfoy, literal or figurative. Lucius clambered to his feet, still managing to maintain some grace, and looked about the room.

"Look what you've done." He tutted at her, but a clear smile played on his lips.

"You started it." Mircea did not give him time to argue with her; she started setting the room to rights and, though he shot her a look, he joined her efforts. Aside from how horrible they looked, the room soon looked as though nothing had ever happened.

"Let me heal your eye," Mircea offered. The curses had been in a fair fight but the chair had been an accident and she had hit him much harder than she had intended.

"Like hell!" he barked at her, backing away. The scar on his torso reminded him of the kind of healing she was good at.

She grinned at him. "It won't do you any good to keep it."

"That's where you're wrong, my dear."

"I'm not your dear."

He ignored her. "It is most certain proof."

"Proof of…"

"How very much you hate my rich, Ministry blood."

She grinned back at him. "So it is, you Pureblooded lickspittle."

He looked impressed. "How is it you are so clever with English?"

"My mother. She spent her school years in South Africa and made sure to teach me. It's a useful skill."

"What was her name?"

Mircea fixed an intense expression on Lucius. "Her name was Moriah. My father was named Arad."

"Don't look so distrustful, Persephone," Lucius soothed. "My father was Abraxas and my mother was Idunn. Now we're even."

"You do realize I have had little reason to trust you, do you not?"

"I do not."

His answer caught her completely off guard. They generally spent most of their time joking about their dislike for one another and distrust of one another.

He continued, watching her closely. "We have mutually benefited one another in countless ways. I have kept your secrets as you have kept mine. And let us not forget where you spend your nights."

"What is the point of this?" Mircea snapped, flustered.

"Simply that you can trust me. That you _do_ trust me."

"Very well. I do. And I have work to do if you will excuse me."

She had left the room in seconds. Lucius picked up a paperweight absently, spinning in his hand as he thought. He trusted her, and he wanted her trust as well. Merlin only knew why since she was impossible, irritating, far too forward for a woman, embittered, and defensive, but he did.

Mircea's head whirled as she bustled down to the potions room of the Manor. It was unreal how easily he could disarm her. She did trust him, though there seemed to be no real reason for it.

* * *

And now they were hanging in the air above a field in Britain, waiting for a signal to move on Potter's house. Mircea and Lucius had been sharing the bed for a week and a half and they both realized that they would have to feign dislike more than ever.

Dolohov floated over to Mircea with McNair in tow.

"Don't worry, lovely," he teased, more kindly than usual. "If you fall, we will catch you."

She sneered at him slightly. "And if you get Stunned, I will wave at you as you fall."

"Painful, Mircea, very painful. Us Easterners must stick together."

"I have no doubt that if I got too close to either of you I would stick. Slimier than Snape, you are."

The two me laughed loudly, drawing Lucius's attention. Why were they howling at her like that?

Why did he care?

His train of thought was cut off by the appearance of the Dark Lord. Subconsciously, he drifted down and back until he was out of Voldemort's line of vision.

"It's time."

The billowing, ashy cloud raced off and the swarm of Death Eaters sped after him. Lucius had seen his wand in the had of the Dark Lord for the hundredth time in the past week and a half and it still made his vision swim with red. Mircea flew close to him, trying to make it seem incidental, but she knew he flew better than her and he could guide her through the trees and buildings.

It was a shorter time than she had expected. They arrived where they should be in half an hour and ten minutes later it began. She saw the Order members rising straight into their trap, all of them silent and still in their black robes. Not shockingly the Order had used Polyjuice Potion and there were now Seven Potters, but there were more than enough Death Eaters for everyone. Bella immediately went after her cousin and Lucius found himself caught up with the werewolf, whom he had dueled before in the Department of Mysteries. Mircea felt something fly by her hair and she spun to see a red-haired and scarred young man on a Thestral aiming another spell at her. Uncertain on a broom though she was, her dueling was more than adequate to drive the man back with the fake Potter (there was no way a straight young man would cling to the ginger like that). He started to make off for some other location and she began give chase when above her she heard the magic word.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Mircea rocketed straight up, something she did not know she could do until she did it, and shot after the motorcycle. In the fullness of the glee that filled her at the prospect of ending this craziness by killing the boy, she easily sent a Patronous off to Lucius. Within moments he was there, blonde hair streaming out behind his mask. The two of them had been joined by Alecto Carrow and Fenrir and the four threw spells in a bristling cloud of flashes. The giant's flying aided by Potter himself was barely enough to keep them at bay.

And then it happened. Mircea saw it unfold from the tailpipe as if in slow motion. A huge brick wall flew straight behind the bike. Straight at Lucius Malfoy who was looking to the side with his swollen-shut eye to the wall. He would never see it coming.

Lucius saw Mircea zooming over to him in an almost perfect horizontal line and assumed she had lost control of her broom. She hit him hard, knocking him off course. He quickly corrected his flying and opened his mouth to yell at her. But he saw her arm go up and a moment later a brick wall hit her full on. He ground his broom to a halt and saw her hang in the air for a moment before crumpling. She began to drop through the air, speeding toward the ground.

What to do? If he went after her he possibly would lose his chance at glory. But she had saved him…

He dove, air whipping at his face. The gap was closing but she was still too far to grab. He pressed himself to his broom handle and sped forward. The ground below shone in the moonlight and he realized that it was in fact water, but this would still have the impact of pavement. She was only a meter or so away and the water was now only a few meters below her. Throwing himself almost from the broom he caught hold of her arm. They slowed instantly but the jerk wrenched his hand away from his broom and they plunged into the dark water.

Kicking with all of his might he broke through the surface of the lake, gasping for air and still clinging to Mircea. Mercifully she was not in her usual skirts or they would have sunk from the weight; as it was, he was struggling to keep himself above water and only her face remained above the water. Tugging his wand out of his pocket where he had tucked it away, he shouted, "_Levicorpus_!"

They rocketed out of the water and crash landed on the shore. He rolled a little distance from her and lay still for a moment. But his eyes landed on her crumpled form and panic swept over him, sickening him. He scurried to her and rolled her onto her back in the sand. Her right side where she had taken the blow of the wall was scraped and her cheek was as large as an apple. But worse yet, she was not breathing.

Lucius did not know a single spell for this. Were she choking he could eject the water, but he did not know how to make her breathe again. He took her face in his hands, trying to will her to be alive.

"Mircea!" He shook her but she remained as immobile and cold as ever. "Persephone!"

Lucius acted on instinct and could not have explained what possessed him to do it: he leaned forward and pressed his mouth around hers, blowing air into her mouth. It immediately blew back into his face through her nose and he sat back swearing. Kneeling beside her, he again pressed his mouth to hers and then held her nose shut. He saw her chest rise and then fall with the air. This was something. Again he blew in air and again her chest fell. Seconds stretched into eternities and just as he was about to give up a shudder passed through her body.

He jumped back just in time to not get a face full of water as she retched and coughed. He helped her sit up, keeping his arm around her shoulders as she coughed.

Mircea was only able to get a bearing on what was going on when water stopped pouring out of her nose and mouth. The last thing she remembered was seeing that wall coming at Lucius. But her face hurt and she was sure her arm was fractured, so that filled in at least one blank. But why was she half-drowned and why was Lucius looking at her like that?

"What happened?"

"You…You fell."

Mircea narrowed her eyes momentarily as she understood what he wasn't saying. He must have dove for her. But she could not imagine how, if she was that water logged, he had gotten her breathing again. "How did you…?" She was surprised to see him turn scarlet and physically distance himself from her.

"I breathed…into your…mouth." He was horribly ashamed to admit it. It seemed so indecent and even at the time it had hardly been sexual. He had thought she was dead. He watched her eyebrows jump.

"But…why?"

Their eyes met. Her tone had not been critical but genuinely wondering. Why had he? He looked her over as he thought: she looked pathetic with a swollen face and soaking wet. He smoothed her hair out of her face, his hand resting against her cheek. Mircea could feel the pain leaving it; he was healing her face without realizing it.

"I was afraid I had lost you." It was all he intended to say about the matter but it was enough. He had kept his panic at bay until he had voiced his fears to her, but now he was very aware of what he could have lost.

Thank you," she murmured. "But you should go. If we go missing too long..."

He nodded and summoned his broom to him. It had crashed into some trees but it would still fly. "Will you be alright?"

She nodded. "I'll Apparate to the gate. Your son can take care of this when he gets back."

He mounted the broom and heard her call for him. Lucius turned to look at her, still soaking wet.

"You'll catch your death like that. Here." She repelled the water from him, the quickest way to dry him off but not the prettiest. His blonde hair was frizzy and his robes were rumpled. Their eyes met. She wanted to say something but there was no way to voice it. He had voluntarily saved her life after she had done the very same for him. Thanks were not big enough and she was already confused.

Lucius looked at her for a moment and then nodded to her. He understood perfectly. He kicked off and was gone into the night.

* * *

Lucius found his son first of all when he arrived home. Draco had survived the attack through they had been unsuccessful. Only Mad eye Moody had been killed and they had not killed Potter.

Worse yet, Draco was the one to inform Lucius of the fate of his father's wand. He was truly speechless for the first time in ages. Like anyone else he had occasionally rehearsed in his mind how he would react to the death of a loved one or the loss of his wand. This was nothing like what he had imagined.

"Father?"

Lucius's grey eyes focused on his son's same grey eyes. What was there to do?

"You have your wand?"

The boy nodded. And Lucius still had his from school. The loss of the elm wand was tragic but they were not totally ruined. Not yet.

"Who were you up against?"

"Arthur Weasley. I was with MacNair and Zabini."

So his son still had not truly wounded or killed yet...Lucius did not know if he was glad or disappointed. His own father would have been disappointed, but, as Mircea had pointed out, since when did he want to be like his father?

"Where is Mircea?" he asked, almost involuntarily.

"In bed. Her arm was fractured so I set it and healed it. Her cheekbone was splintered a bit as well but it should heal fine. I gave her a sleeping potion. She seemed off."

"Off how?"

Draco watched his father closely as he answered the question. There was something going on, something he was not part of but was growing more aware of each day.

'Distracted. Moony." _Like you_, Draco thought.

Lucius seemed to pick up on the implied notes in his son's answer, because he immediately became his more usual, snappy self. "Well, we aren't dead yet. Stay in your rooms until afternoon tomorrow. Give this time to blow over and have an elf bring you food in the morning."

Draco nodded and Lucius slipped away down the hall. But he did not go to his own room. When he entered Mircea's room he could see her sleeping form in her bed. He had entered through loopholes that he knew from her own explanations of the securities around her room and so he reasoned he must not be completely unwelcome. She did not wake and he moved closer to her, silent as a shadow. For whatever reason it struck him as important to see that she was alright with his own eyes. Her sandy hair fanned out around her and she cradled her recently injured and healed arm to her chest. Her face was swollen but looked much better and she slept much more heavily than he had ever known her to sleep before.

She was fine, and he knew he should leave before his presence or absence was noticed. But Lucius still felt a twinge of disappointment at having to go to bed alone as he Apparated silently to his own room.

* * *

The Death Eaters were informed the next day that the Dark Lord had learned the wedding was to be within 48 hours. It was the opportunity they had long been waiting for and Lucius only saw Mircea in passing for the next day and a half. These were her plans and she was busy explaining them to each and every group. They all needed to "incidentally" arrive in the Ministry and then take it down in sections, like a grid.

This would also be Mircea's first time to set foot in the Ministry of Magic let alone her first opportunity to exact the revenge she had long dreamed of. He could see the glow of it in her eyes as she explained the plans to the different groups of Death Eaters and recruits.

But even with all of this going on, each morning he awoke beside her. Even if he had gone to bed alone, Lucius would wake with her warm body beside his own. Disconcertingly enough, he even awoke one morning with her in only her underthings and her dress draped over the back of a chair. Mircea had almost died of embarrassment, but he had been a perfect gentleman about it and had even gotten her dressing gown for her from her room. What she did not know was how secretly pleased he was that she felt this comfortable with him. Lucius did not believe he would be able to sleep without her.

Before they all knew it, the afternoon was upon them. Lucius had gone looking for a cigar to see him off when he found Mircea. She was alone in his study and jumped when he entered the room. She was dressed head to toe in tight, clinging black and she looked very tense.

Lucius abandoned the cigar, knowing there was no way she would tolerate him smoking near her in a mood like this. "Why so serious?"

Mircea turned back to the window, debating whether to answer him or not. "Do you remember your wedding, Mr. Malfoy?"

He looked visibly taken aback and came to stare out the window beside her. The look she knew reflected his thinking about Narcissa was plain on his face. "I do. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Your wife, if not you, spent over a year planning a single day, correct?"

Lucius nodded. He wanted that cigar now.

"And what was her reaction after it was all over? After the honeymoon?"

Lucius did not want to remember his wife like that but he could not change what she had been. "She was depressed and restless. She said she had planned for so long she didn't know what to do with herself now that it was all over."

Mircea nodded. "That's why I'm so serious, Malfoy. What's to become of me? I've planned this for so long."

"The Dark Lord will see your skill tonight and you will find some other way of torturing me," Lucius answered calmly. He watched her out of the corners of his vision and saw her smile at him.

"One can only hope. I should be going."

"So I am to meet you at the center hall in two hours, correct?"

The look of horror on her face made him laugh aloud. "Couldn't resist, Miss Elaide."

She looked at him like she was going to hex him and then shook her head, walking out of the room, silently. Lucius smiled and decided he could skip the cigar after all.

* * *

Lucius had to stifle a shout when a gloved hand wrapped around his mouth in the dark. He spun around to see Mircea smirking up at him. "We're even now."

"Not hardly, witch," he growled at her, turning back to survey the hall. He did not remember her being that quiet before. She must have used a localized silencing spell.

"Any sign of our dear night patrolman?"

"Not yet, but you're four minutes early."

She made a face at him. "Lack of precision loses lives, Lucius."

"And lack of attention?" He jammed his surprisingly sharp elbow into her ribs and she looked back to the hallway. The night watchman was there. She nodded at Lucius and he sent a slicing spell across her forehead. Blood trickled into her eyes and she mouthed obscenities at him. Lucius winced; he had overdone it a bit. She stepped out of the shadows and began to stumble toward the wizard in her path.

"Mam'? Are you alright? You should not be here."

"I just need to sit down a moment. I didn't see him."

"Who? Who's here?"

"I am." The man did not have time to turn around before the killing curse hit him.

Mircea was immediately back to her more surly self, catching the body and lowering it soundlessly to the ground. All over the building this was being imitated in various forms.

"'_I am.' _Seriously? A little less theatrics, Lucius," she scolded as he drug the body away.

"Little miss Princess-in-distress has a lot of room to talk."

"Maybe if you weren't busy blinding me!" she hissed at him. "Come on. Still three more to go."

The next three guards were all dispatched with as much ease as the first. None of them had ever seen Mircea before and she had no problem appealing to their better natures.

And then it began. Someone finally got wind of what was going on, not shocking all things considered, and the remaining forces came out. Luckily, Fudge had always had horrible taste in friends, so many of those the Ministry dogs expected to help them turned on them.

"Lucius, behind you!"

Lucius ducked without question; if she had said to jump three meters into the air he would have done it. A column of fire swirled above him and he threw a slicing spell behind him. There was a cry and a body fell.

"Good aim," Mircea said, offering him a hand up.

He was about to retort when he saw a cloud of knives shooting toward them. Without a warning he shoved her down and threw a shield around them. The knives turned to powder on contact with the shield and coated both of them in grey metallic dust. With a swipe of her wand Mircea cleaned them off,

"Back to back, Malfoy. If you can stand the heat, that is."

In answer he grabbed hold of her and spun her behind him. They blended perfectly, each genuinely looking out for the other's interests. They twisted, spun and fired off spells as one unit with four arms, a veritable Ganesh. Shouts and cries echoed down the halls as they made their way to the main atrium. There was smoke, water, and a firework of flashing lights as they pushed forward.

Malfoy heard Mircea scream and it made goosebumps break out across his body. He had never heard her scream like that before. He spun around to see a man on fire stumbling towards her, reaching for her. Mircea shrieked again and Malfoy realized why. It was a boggart that someone had released. This was her father that was lurching toward them. Lucius stepped in front of her, crying, "_Ridikulous!_" The boggart fell to the ground in a pile of ash before solidifying into a sparkling diamond. Mircea stared at it for a moment before taking Lucius's hand to pull him away; the boggart was shifting to Lucius's fear. As they turned the corner, she heard people behind her yelling that Voldemort was here and she caught a glimpse of the pale head.

Grey eyes met dark ones, assimilating this new information about one another, but there was no time for deep thinking. A column above them exploded and Lucius began firing off spells as Mircea threw the rubble back at the Ministry fighters.

This went on for about ten more minutes before shouts were heard from above the main atrium. "The Minister is dead! The Ministry has fallen!"

As if on signal, the Ministry fighters fell back, running and disappearing into corridors and the Floo chutes. Some Death Eaters followed, but most of the Dark Lord's servants stayed where they were. A loud cheer soared up from the black, hooded masses. They had won.

Lucius shot sparks and fireworks into the air, practically beaming with joy. Surely things would get better now. He turned to Mircea and his grin was matched with one from her; she looked a bit deranged with blood over her forehead and down to her jaw and this glowing grin. Unexpectedly, she threw herself at him in a tight embrace. He caught her and stood stunned for a moment before hugging her back just as tightly.

* * *

But the victory at the Ministry was not without consequence. Potter had gotten away once again and Rowle and Dolohov had been viciously punished for being beaten by seventeen year olds. Snape and Draco had been left to see to them as the Dark Lord didn't want to be rid of them quite yet and the battered pair was now resting in a guest room on the first floor.

And that night as they slept, the combination of the horrible torture she had been forced to witness and the sight of her father's flaming body reaching for her resulted in wicked nightmares for Mircea.

Lucius woke to her screaming, which nearly made his blood run cold. When he tried to calm her she fought him, assuming in her dream state that he was after her. He wrestled with her until he could finally shake her awake. She looked around still not fully aware of what happened.

"Persephone…It's alright. You are in no danger." _Well, no immediate danger_, he corrected mentally.

"But my father…"

"He has been dead for many years now. It is all over." He wasn't sure if he should lie to her and tell her that her father had never died, but it did not sit right with him and so he stuck to the painful truth.

"Oh." She looked at him with a gaze that clearly said she was still within her dreams before lying down much closer to him than usual. She dropped off almost immediately, but she shivered in her sleep. Hesitantly, Lucius curled his arms around her, curving his body to fit beside hers. Her shivering stopped and she relaxed against his warm body.

"I'll wait for a little while and then I'll roll over," Lucius told himself. But her calm breathing and warm skin soon had him deeply asleep as well.

When Mircea awoke the next morning, she had no recollection of the nightmares or Lucius waking her. She only felt his arms around her and his breathing ruffling her hair. They had agreed not to touch, and that needed to be maintained for the sake of distance. Mircea wrestled inwardly for a minute before suddenly whispering, "To hell with it." She curled up closer to the man beside her and fell back into sleep.

From that morning on, they always awoke touching. Neither commented on it and neither sought to end it. Sometimes Lucius awoke with her head on his shoulder or chest and sometimes Mircea awoke with his arms around her, but they always held one another now in sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: IOU

_It's back! I could give many reasons but there isn't much point so just a big sorry to everyone! Should be more regular now. _

* * *

**Chapter 9: I.O.U.**

Mircea's plans had worked. _Her_ plans with others moving in them but definitely _hers. _And she was to be rewarded.

"This way, Miss Elaide," Pious instructed, smiling at her. It was hard for her to grasp that he was Imperioused sometimes, the spell was so flawless. Clearly, Yaxley had skill at such things. "You've been given a secretary as well. The Ministry hopes he will be to your satisfaction."

"_He?_" Mircea asked incredulously.

Pious motioned her into a room and she stopped short. Lucius Malfoy looked up from the desk he was at indignantly and with a hint of shame.

"Minister–"

"He was given to you with the hopes that your brilliance and your obvious influence over him might balance his stupidity. I will leave you to your work." The tone was clear: this was not to be discussed.

The door closed and Mircea stood facing it for some time, her back still to Lucius.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she whispered without turning around.

"Would you like some tea, Miss Elaide?" Lucius watched a blush creep up her neck and ears. She turned around slowly.

"Don't, Lucius."

He rose just as slowly and crossed to her. He bowed low, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "I am yours to command. Do with me as you wish."

"Then I'll fire you and they'll reassign you."

"If you are displeased with my service I will be punished. This was made very plain to me."

"I don't want you to…"

"And why not? You would have lept at the chance mere weeks ago."

Why indeed? What it came down to was that Mircea could not imagine going back to his bed every night after having him serve her in this manner every day. And she valued that more than she valued the pleasure of his forced humility.

"It's different now. You know that."

"So you will refuse?" Lucius was angry at how eager, how servile, his voice sounded in his own ears.

"We cannot lie about something like this. It's dangerous as it is." Mircea was cut through by the look of betrayal he gave her. "Lucius, you know it is true. You must either go and suffer the consequences or be here as what you are supposed to be."

Lucius felt ill. He must have looked very low indeed, because Mircea took his hand in her own.

"You know what they are trying to do. Don't give in to them. Do your job on your own terms and make me regret having you here as I am sure only you are so capable of doing."

Lucius could not help but laugh softly at the jab. He was also intensely aware of the feeling of her hand in his own.

"Very well." Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and took a seat behind his desk. "Would you like tea?"

She looked at him questioningly and finally answered, "Yes."

"Then get your own bloody tea," he drawled back at her before leaning over a roll of parchment and beginning to write.

Mircea was still laughing when she closed the door to her office.

* * *

Fall had officially embraced England when Mircea took the chair across from Lucius's desk and sat staring at him. He put down his quill and set his glasses to the side. She usually just crossed into her office and only came out if she needed to do something or was bored.

"What is on your mind, Persephone?"

She bit back a reprimand about using her given name and kept his steely grey eyes in her dark ones. "I need your help."

"You need me to file something for you?" Lucius snapped sarcastically. He was in a foul mood. He could not hardly leave the office without open harassment and insubordination. The only witches and wizards who showed him any respect were Mudbloods on trial and even they openly stared at the numbers on his neck. Today, Yaxley had dumped a pile of papers into his arms and told him Mircea needed to see them and they needed to be brought back within the hour. The jerk from the elevator leaving had sent everything he carried cascading to the ground and Yaxley had walked away laughing. He was, of course, late since Mircea had taken one look at the pile and started cursing a blue streak; she should have seen the papers over the course of the week and not in a huge last-ditch effort.

"The opposite. I need you to destroy some files."

"You're mad," he snorted at her, leaning back in his chair. "And what if I refuse?"

"Then I may be arrested and after that who knows…"

His eyebrows darted upward. "You're not going to threaten to fire me?"

"We both know what that would mean and I will not do that." Mircea's face had not changed during the entire conversation but there was an unmistakable softness that appeared in her voice now. Lucius stood and began to pace the office, spelling it with the same web they used each night.

"What is the complication?"

"They are checking people's boodlines and backgrounds."

"You said you were a Pureblood."

"As I am. But a traitor is hardly a desirable relative."

"That's not enough for you to come to me with this request. Your family history is openly known. Tell me what it is you want or deal with this on your own."

"Wrong, Lucius. My family history is not openly known."

"Then why did Bella...?"

"Why does Bellatrix ever know anything? She has big ears and Dark Magic and plenty of people who are scared of her."

Lucius leaned against his desk, staring into space. It would seem there was quite a bit about her that he knew and others did not. So why ask this of him? Was she trying to get rid of him? Did she feel he knew too much? This could very well be a suicide mission depending on how her files were classified. He wouldn't admit it to himself but he was hurt by this request. He had begun to think...fondly of her. And now this.

"I am waiting for an answer," Mircea reminded him tersely, winding and unwinding a fold of her skirt around her fingers.

"Who was it that recruited you?"

She was not sure what this had to do with his answer but she told him. "Severus Snape."

"Take this to him then."

"And why will you not-?"

"Your drudge I may be but I am not required to throw myself the the wolves for you. After all, could I seriously expect you to defend me if I were to be caught?"

"You think I would ask you to do this and then sacrifice you for myself?"

Lucius leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk between them. "I do."

Mircea's eyes were wide. He was the one who had cornered her into admitting she trusted him. Why was he doing this now?

"I am asking you as-"

But he cut her off. He did not want to hear what she had to say anymore. He had nearly allowed himself to be entangled with this woman and now that ship had sailed.

"You have my answer. You're on your own."

"You worthless, selfish, coward!" Mircea shouted at him, standing with her hands balled in fists at her sides.

"Self-preserving," Lucius hissed at her through gritted teeth.

"Yes!" she shrilled in return. "So much so that you will be the only one left standing after you've stuck a knife in the back of anyone who has _lowered_ themselves enough to _help_ you!"

"Oh yes, you are very charitable, Miss Elaide." Lucius was shaking he was so angry. "So charitable as to fling a man's suffering in his face, to crush him under your heel whenever the opportunity presents itself. But your over-inflated sense of vengeance and your self-righteousness will be the end of you and I will dance on your grave."

Luckily, Lucius ducked when he saw her hands move. The wall behind him sizzled and now had a gaping hole in it, and the door to Mircea's office slammed shut so hard it rattled the wall.

This event kept them apart for a solid week, each of them teetering between hexing the other when their back was turned or apologizing to one another. They traveled to the Ministry separately, avoided all contact as far as possible, and slept alone. Or rather, Lucius sat in the dark smoking and nursing a drink, and Mircea woke in cold sweats and screaming.

It was a matter of principle Lucius told himself. She had always been haughty with him, but she was as deserving of misfortune as he was.

Mircea was worried constantly. Any day she could be called up for examination and then what? How could she defend the actions of her parents? This, combined with Lucius's second warning of the fragile nature of importance among the Death Eaters, swirled into dark dreams that haunted her.

Things changed, however, when Lucius overheard Rowle and MacNair talking in an elevator.

"Unreal. I've never heard a sound like that in my life. Nearly killed her on the spot."

"Who?" Lucius asked, expecting to be regaled with some Muggle-hunting story.

"Your boss," MacNair sneered.

"She's not _my_ anything. What was wrong?"

"Worried, Malfoy? Have your sights set a bit high?"

Rowle did not expect to have a wand in his face so quickly, but it sped up his account of the event. "She was sleep walking at the Manor this morning and screaming her head off. Your son subdued her but she's got a wicked fever."

The next time the elevator doors opened, Lucius was out and headed for the Floo network.

When he arrived home, Lucius found Draco sitting and reading the Prophet outside of Mircea's rooms. "Heard what happened from Rowle. What's wrong with her?"

Draco met Lucius's eyes more evenly than he would have expected and shrugged. "Her mind's overwrought. She needs rest."

"What can be done?" Lucius was honestly surprised that this bothered him as much as it did. The little bitch had tried to get him axed and here he was, worried because she had a fever. But he _was_ worried, as much as he did not want to be, and he was beginning to think he would have a mental breakdown as well if he did not get a real night's sleep soon. He needed her back in his bed and that would never happen with the two of them like this.

"Well, father, if you know what's bothering her, fixing it would be a good first step."

Lucius rankled at the tone his son was taking, but it forced him to notice just how much Draco was growing up. He bit back the reprimand about attitude. "And if I have no desire to fix her problems?"

Draco shrugged again and went back to his Prophet. "Then she'll wake up screaming and in a fever. And it won't be anything to you at all, will it?"

When Draco looked back up his father was gone. He smirked and quietly entered Mircea's rooms. She stirred in bed and opened her eyes.

"I heard Lucius," she murmured as he checked her fever.

"He's worried about you."

"He's an idiot." She rolled over and drifted off to sleep again.

Draco watched her for a while before speaking out loud. "You do have that effect on him."

* * *

When Mircea arrived at the Ministry the next day, Lucius was blocking her path to her office, leaning back against the door. "Welcome back."

She ignored him and tried to push him off of the door. This effort was obviously unsuccessful since he was a much bigger person than she was.

"Is there something you _want_, or should I call vermin control?"

"I have something _you_ want."

Mircea could feel herself blush and she looked up into his grey eyes. Oh, did he ever.

Lucius felt a wave of heat wash over him unexpectedly as she blushed and her pupils dilated. He thought unaccountably about how she felt in his arms first thing in the morning.

"Here." His voice was huskier than he meant it to be as he pulled the file from his suit and handed it to her. He watched as she flipped through the parchments in surprise.

"You got my file… Why?" Her voice had gone from the cold tones she had always used when they first met to the voice she used when it was only them.

"I'd rather… sleep soundly than be right, I suppose."

Mircea was shocked. He had cursed, threatened, and deliberately ignored her for a solid week, and yet he had still done this for her.

"You owe me, though, witch. Nothing's free in this life."

As he was walking away, Mircea caught him by the arm. "Thank you, Luicus."

A smile appeared on his sharp and aged face. "I'll have those words engraved on something if you aren't careful."

* * *

"See the posters?" a witch next to Mircea asked as they walked toward the elevators.

"No." Mircea looked up from the scrolls she was perusing and noticed them for the first time. The letters were glittering silver with a greeny cast, like an underwater lake. The script read "Dragon Ball."

"Oh for the love of Morgana!" Mircea scoffed, beginning to read again.

"It's to gain support for the cause. Show that we do not skimp on those who know where their allegiance should stand."

"And whose bone-headed idea was that?"

"Wasn't it yours? That's what they are all saying."

Mircea stared at the witch for a moment before changing direction abruptly and heading for a different hall.

"But that was not my idea," Mircea was saying minutes later to Artemis Sudent, her superior at the new Ministry.

"Delores told me it was and I thought it was quite clever."

"It was sarcasm!"

"Well, the Minister approved it and it is happening in a week. He said to make sure you and your escort–."

"I can't possibly be expected to attend this thing, can I?"

"And why ever not? It is desired by the Minister himself and assuming that you are still hoping for the position you first expressed interest in…"

Mircea ground her teeth in anger. "Very well." She left before she managed to get herself fired. In the halls, she snarled at everyone who tried to congratulate her on her idea. She pushed into her office and ordered the nervous looking under secretary that was talking to Lucius to leave.

"Can you believe this 'ball' nonsense?" she fumed when they were alone. "The Ministry should be focusing its efforts on long term goals or short term that would result in the capture of Undesirable Number One!"

Lucius was holding something in one hand and looking at her with a very flat expression.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I am ordered to attend as well. Not only this but I am ordered to attend in dress that bears my Azkaban numbers clearly."

"Why?" Mircea asked, greatly surprised.

"All the Death Eaters who have been inmates are required to. To show the oppression of the former Ministry and our pride in the current one." Lucius practically spat out the words. He felt no pride in this Ministry. At least in the last one he had position and respect. Now he was a laughing stock and would have to wear his great shame for all to see, classing him with the likes of the Lestranges. But he had a plan; it had been spinning in his brain since he had first seen this order.

Mircea could read what he was thinking and gave him a look. "Whatever is in your head had better stay there, Malfoy," she warned. "If Dorat comes with the floor plans, let him through, but bar anyone else."

"I wish to cash in on the… favor you owe me."

Mircea turned to him slowly, stopping outside of her door. "Oh?"

"You attend this atrocity with me. You needn't be announced with me, but I'll not be left in some corner like a cat's paw. And you…" He knew it was thin ice and would be asking a lot but it was the most vital point. "You choose a gown that leaves your own scars uncovered."

Mircea's temper flared instantly and Lucius was only able to hold her off because he was prepared for her attack. She threw a blast of magic at him that, no matter how he shielded himself from it, pushed him back into the wall as if he stood on ice. Finally, he found himself pinned to the wall completely. Mircea pressed her face into his ready to rip into him when he managed enough strength to headbutt her. Cursing, she let him go and held her head.

"You think one file is worth that? You're a fool!"

Lucius rolled his eyes openly and clamped his arms around hers, holding her tightly against him and keeping her from reaching her wand. She shrieked but when nothing happened it was clear the room was spelled.

"Let me go!" she growled at him.

"Let us be honest for a moment," he purred into her ear, ignoring her feeble struggling. "I cannot sleep without you, nor you without me. Let's not put ourselves back through that farce again."

Mircea blushed and tried to fight harder, but it made little difference; Lucius was much stronger than her.

"Now then, your mission is to bring the East to the forefront of the Ministry and to throw light on the wrongs done in the past. A very noble cause, indeed. But why should we believe you? The East is dark and troubled. So show them; show them the evidence you bear on your body. Don't think of this as helping me; think of this as an opportunity for your cause."

Mircea stopped fighting him as his words sunk in and he let her go. He was playing her feelings, just as all the other Death Eaters tried to do. He was acting just like the rest of them: using her for his own gain.

The expression Mircea fixed on him was completely new to Lucius. She stood there, looking at him, before feeling the lump on her forehead.

"Very well," she said, and then, since there was nothing else to say, she left, shutting the door behind her quietly.

Lucius took a seat at his desk but found himself unable to work. The look she had given him had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was low to go about it this way, but he would not be made a fool anymore and she was in his debt. He brushed it off and pulled his mind together to focus on his work.

For the next week, Mircea did not bring up their deal, to the point where Lucius became paranoid that she was going to leave him hanging. However, her calendar had a block of time scheduled for dress shopping, and a large box was delivered for her at the Manor. Finally, the day before the ball, he ventured to bring it up once again.

"I have a dress and I will meet you there. I am sure you will be able to find me."

Without another word she pushed by him. When she saw him again later in the day, she acted as though nothing had happened at all. He absolutely could not understand her behavior.

He arrived at the ball at the same time as Severus, though the latter distanced himself quickly from Lucius. Lucius did not take it personally; he was toxic and this was a very public event. What he needed was some corner to hide in until Mircea arrived. Alas, this was not to be as some former associates heard him announced to the room and quickly caught him up in conversation.

As he tried to tune out the mindless blather, Lucius scanned the room. There were many new faces but only a few actually stood out. There was a witch that looked as though she could be part siren (terrifying, to say the least) and several men who looked as rough and wolfish as Fenrir. But most notably was a tall and attractive man standing alone and also watching the crowd. He had a jet-black beard that was perfectly manicured and his hair had shocks of grey at the temples. Lucius felt bitterness well up in him; he had once looked just as well groomed, healthy, and whole.

"Miss Mircea Elaide."

Lucius turned to where the doorman was announcing couples and individuals. He was truly astounded when he saw her. It wasn't simply her appearance. She did look lovely in a black satin dress with straps low across her shoulders and a full skirt. What caught his attention was how wild-eyed she looked. She was clearly extremely uncomfortable and almost daring someone to comment on the scar that was almost completely exposed across the front of her arm and chest. This was a woman who never uncovered so much as her elbows and she was dressed exactly as he had asked.

Lucius navigated his way over to her and slipped his arm around her waist before she could protest, leading her into a busier corner of the room. He lowered his voice, speaking almost into her ear.

"Why did you agree to this?" It was mostly rhetorical but he wanted to be sure.

Mircea could tell from his tone that he already knew so she gave up the idea of lying to him. "I asked you to help me as a… as a friend," she blurted out. " And I acquiesced to your 'request' for the same reason. You are the only person with whom I have any sympathy or understanding."

Lucius was flattered and surprised. He obviously thought of her as more than just someone living in his home, or his guard, or more recently his boss. But he was very cautious using the label of friend. He hadn't had any in years; there had been allies yes and at one point his wife had been his friend, but he had killed that long before. But yes, the more he thought of it the more he realized Mircea was his friend, as completely inadequate and trite that word was. He literally trusted her with his life.

"For Merlin's sake say something," she hissed at him, suppressing her embarrassment with anger.

In response, he simply took her hand to his lips, holding her eyes in his own. He could not bring himself to vocalize what he had thought, but he had always been good at showing what he felt.

"You look lovely. There is not a more impressive woman in the room."

Mireca did not know what to make of this side of Lucius. "Thank…you… I feel naked."

"It only adds to the fierceness in your eyes."

She cracked a smile at him. "All right. You're forgiven. Lay off the false flattery."

"I flatter but never falsely."

Mircea rolled her eyes, but the unsettled feeling that had plagued her for a long time was ebbing away. They were not just linked by the increasing number of secrets they shared; it was at least somewhat personal. And if it was personal, then there was a reason to work at improving the connection.

"Come on. I'm starving and people are staring at me."

Lucius smirked. "We can find some dark corner to curl up in and give them a reason to stare." Mircea socked him in the stomach "lightly" and he grinned in return. "No one would see your scars."

"I'm not Crabbe and Goyle. I won't guffaw as if I've half a brain."

"Thank Merlin for that. Let's eat."

Their evening was spent in constant awareness of the other's presence. They could not have stayed side by side through the entire evening, which is what they both would have preferred, but their eyes constantly found one another in the large ballroom. Lucius found himself constantly looking down to where he expected Mircea to be to make faces about the conversations around him, but she was not there. And Mircea had to bite back several comments that would have made Lucius laugh at the expense of whomever she was speaking to. But they were not the only ones aware of one another. The dark-haired man followed Mircea at a distance, seeking information about her casually as he spoke to people throughout the room.

"Dance with me."

Mircea chocked on her drink and Lucius acted as though he were helping her out. She had not heard him come up behind her. The party had died down some and she was considering leaving as she was busily hiding away in a corner of the room.

Mircea scoffed. "You get me to come in some fool dress and then you act as though my dancing will make anyone but you feel better. I tell you, I am a terrible dancer."

"Don't worry. You can stand on my feet."

She sighed heavily but took his hand willingly. He was being very sweet to her, so he must not have totally despised her for what she said.

Their hands met and Lucius took a firm grip of her waist. "Let me lead you," he murmured. Then, with a pressure on her side to show where she should go, he began to lead her in the steps of the dance. Mercifully, it was relatively slow, but Lucius still could not suppress laughing at her once or twice. She really was bad. And as they danced the rest of the world melted away. Their relationship had changed completely, becoming still more complicated and touching them both even deeper than before.

But that was brought to an abrupt halt when a man's voice spoke from behind Lucius.

"Surely this is not the best a woman of your beauty can find by way of a dance partner?"

The pair split up and Mircea looked up at the speaker. The man was about a head taller than her, taller than Lucius as well, and broad and muscled. And his voice had an unmistakably Slavic accent to it.

"Surely this is not your way of asking for a dance?" Mircea replied in a stony voice.

"Of course not. This is." He stepped closer to her and took her hand gently in his own. "Could I interest you in a dance?"

Mircea could see Lucius's tight and closed off expression out of the corner of her eye but there was really no way around it. Anyone else would be stupid to refuse this lovely hunk of man offhand without a reason. She nodded and followed him to the center of the floor, away from Lucius.

"Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" the man asked as he took her waist and began to lead her.

"Mircea Elaide."

An even and perfectly white grin split his features. "I've heard of you."

"Only terrible things I hope."

"Quite the opposite. I've heard you are formidable and determined."

"Good. I would hate to have anyone saying I was sweet and demure."

"Oh, one could figure out that much is not true from your eyes."

Mircea half smiled, turning her face away from him. "And what is your name? It is quite unfair, because I am willing to swear I have never seen you before in my entire life."

"And so you haven't. I was hired on yesterday actually. My name is Zhenya Sorokin."

"Russian, then?"

"Ukranian."

Mircea nodded. She understood the difference even if none of the Brits in the room would have. "You have the look of a Central Asian to you."

"That would be the Cossack in me."

"How exotic," she teased with a smile. "You said you were just hired on? What for?"

"Head of Eastern Magical Cooperation."

Mircea stopped dead, causing someone to run into her, and yanked her hands free of Zhenya's.

"Are you alright? You look…pale."

"I'm leaving. Good evening." Mircea pushed her way through the crowd, prepared to blast people out of her way if necessary. Lucius had seen her mood change and tried to intercept her at the door.

"Mircea! What _is_ it?"

"He's the _new_ Head of Eastern Magical Cooperation!" she hissed at him before shoving him away from her. Lucius stood back and watched her storm away.

Zhenya stopped beside Lucius as Mircea disappeared into a Floo grate. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"

"You took her job."

Zhenya caught Lucius's arm and Lucius gave him a look that clearly said he could get off of him or lose his hand. The other man pulled his hand back quickly.

"You work with her right? Can you put in a good word for me? I had no idea–."

"Exactly. You have no idea, so you're on your own." And without another word Lucius also headed to a Floo grate and disappeared.

Zhenya's jaw set tightly and his eyes narrowed. There was a bit too much personal tone there for his liking. He was interested in this woman and there was pressure for him to marry and raise his own standing. Marrying a Death Easter was his best option and he would not let this man get in his way. He would have to pay the blonde man a visit in the future.

* * *

Mircea's room was in a better state than he had expected it to be. His wide-eyed son had warned him that there had been screaming and explosions, as well as after shocks of dark magic. When he stepped into the room, he was almost knocked back by the heat. Everything in the room was engulfed in flame and Mircea stood in the middle of it, her arms limply by her sides.

"That bed is hundreds of years old!" he shouted to her over the roar of the fire. "Mind putting it out?"

With a wave of her hands, the fire went out and not a mark had been left by it on anything there. Lucius was able to send a repairing spell over the things she had blown up and reassemble a valuable chest of drawers.

When the room was as it should have been, Lucius turned his attention back to her.

"Well?"

"That man has my job. I was promised…" Her voice was low and hoarse.

"I am sorry for you."

She looked at him intently. "You knew this would happen."

"I had my suspicions."

He could see her eyes welling with tears though she clearly was fighting not to cry. "They betrayed me. I have given up _everything_ for them and they…" She cut herself off as her voice began to quiver.

Lucius felt bad for her. It was one thing to be hard and expect your enemies to put a knife in your back, but it was another thing entirely when those you had bled for did the same. He had taken about as many wounds as the Muggle ruler Cesar and just when he thought he couldn't feel them any more…

"It is not right," he said without thinking. It was a quiet statement but full of angry passion.

"Lucius!" Mircea hissed at him, looking alarmed. She agreed but if they got caught talking like that they would be up before Umbridge in no time.

"No," his deep voice rumbled out and he crossed the room to her. He took her face in his hands and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I deserve better than this. _We_ deserve better than this."

"But there is nothing we can do about it." Mircea was held in the spell his eyes wove around her but she could not enter into some delusion of escaping this. They were in so very deep.

"No," Lucius said again, this time with a sigh. He let his hands fall back to his sides. "I suppose not."

The brief moment of intense intimacy passed and Mircea turned her back to him. "I will stay here for the night."

"As you wish."

After Lucius left both were occupied for most of the night hours with their own separate thoughts. Mircea's mind swarmed with anger, hurt, helplessness, and worry. But Lucius's thoughts were very different: he had unintentionally spoken in terms of "we" and Mircea had followed suit, as if it were only natural. Something had changed this night. Whereas before it had been Lucius and Mircea against one another, now it was the two of them against the world.


	10. Chapter 10: Duck, Duck, Goose

**Chapter 10: Duck, Duck, Goose**

Now that things had settled down since the Ministry fell, pressure was coming down heavily on Mircea's department to think of ways to round up those who opposed the new regime. Random sweeps of London had worked for a while but clearly there were now safe houses for the rebels to hide in. Mircea was hoping to come up with some genius idea that could keep her solidly in everyone's good graces now that the glamour of the ball had faded away.

This all wandered through her mind as she sat cross-legged on Lucius's bed with Lucius sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. She had taken to fixing his hair on a regular basis since she did not mind it and he was wretched at it. Lucius loved the feeling of her nails against his scalp and her fingers working through the strands. Of course he had not told her that.

He was dressed for work and perusing the Daily Prophet. He always ate alone and was at the Ministry long before her to keep suspicion at bay. She slept later but worked later, so it evened out.

Mircea let Lucius's silky hair run through her fingers before gathering it all together and tying it back. She was only half listening to what he was reading in the paper, half to her and half to himself.

"I cannot fathom why this topic is so taboo. There is no reason we should not address the serious problem that Mudbloods who mate with Purebloods pose to the very fundamentals of our society."

Something broke through Mircea's thoughts and she accidentally yanked the ponytail.

"Bloody–!" Lucius started but she cut him off.

"Repeat what you just said. Word for word."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "_I said_," he drawled in a caustic tone, "I cannot fathom why this topic is so taboo."

Mircea's excited shriek cut him off again. He intended to chew her out for screaming in his ears, but he felt her arms around his neck and then the undeniable softness of lips against his cheek.

"You've done it! You've found our next move!"

Mircea Disapparated without further comment, leaving him sitting on the edge of his bed, alone. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind he should care about what she had been banging on about but honestly he did not care about that at the moment.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he could nearly feel her lips on his cheek once again.

* * *

At the Ministry, their block of offices was abuzz and when he reached his own office, he saw the door standing open with several men standing around Mircea's desk as she pointed at a parchment on her desk.

Their eyes met and Lucius could feel himself color slightly. _Damn fool! Get a hold of yourself!_ he scolded himself.

"Is there anything you need, Miss Elaide?" Lucius asked, standing respectfully in the doorway.

"Yes, Lucius. Come here."

The men at the desk shuffled about a little to make room for him. He could see a very old book lying open now that he was closer, and on the parchment lying on top of the book was a list of words. _Harry Potter. Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore._

"We are planning a Taboo, Malfoy," Mircea said meaningfully. "The word we choose will set off an alarm allowing us to find whomever said it. The problem is that these words are far too general. Even if we get everyone here to call Potter 'Undesirable Number One' we cannot stop the rest of the world. Any thoughts?"

Lucius stared at the parchment. He had one but he was afraid to say it.

Mircea could read his expression though. "Malfoy, what is the word you are thinking of?"

"Voldemort."

A shudder ran through the room and Mircea leaned away from him somewhat, as if afraid he would be hit by lightening.

"Only Potter and his closest cohorts dare to use that name."

"How do _you _know that?" someone to his right sneered.

"Remind me where you were when Sirius Black died, Dorat," Lucius snapped back.

Quiet acceptance settled over the room. Though he was now fallen, it would require a great deal of lying to deny Lucius had once been the most powerful of them. The task to retrieve the Prophecy was proof of this.

Mircea slowly wrote the name on the parchment. It seemed to soak deeper and blacker, than the other words there.

"It's perfect."

By the end of the day, the Taboo was in effect. Mircea was given credit as the genesis of the idea, but when Lucius began packing up to go home, he noticed a box on his desk. The box was a deep green with a silver monogram stamped in the lid, compromised of the letters "REE." Slowly, Lucius opened the box. His expression changed quickly to open delight. In the box was a sinfully expensive necktie he had been eyeing for the past week.

"Looks like you have an admirer," Mircea commented, leaning against the doorframe and smiling as he examined the midnight blue silk.

"Well, she has excellent taste," he returned, not hiding his pleasure at the gift.

"Interesting…"

"Yes?"

Mircea gave him a wicked grin. "You assume it's a lady. Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

The door closed behind her and Lucius chuckled to himself as he put the box in his briefcase.

* * *

"If you keep leaving that hall door open, we will need to have a chat, Mr. Malfoy," Mircea called to Lucius, not looking up from what she was writing.

"Your paranoia will not cut me off from the rest of society, Miss Elaide. With all due respect."

The last phrase in particular was loaded with sarcasm, so Mircea looked up to scold him but stopped short.

"What? No scathing riposte?" Lucius teased, looking up from his own parchment. But he too lost his train of thought.

There was a duck standing quite placidly in the open doorway. Or at least, it was mostly placid; something in its rimmed eyes gave away malicious intentions. From her vantage point Mircea could see Lucius start to move for his wand. The duck opened its bill and _hissed_ at them, revealing short, needle-sharp teeth. Flecks of poison flew from the teeth and burned holes in the carpet.

"Merlin's saggy balls," Lucius breathed, leaning back into his original position. But Mircea could see his muscles were all still tensed.

"Lucius…" Mircea warned, but it was too late.

The duck took off in a flurry of wings and Lucius reacted. The stunning spell did nothing but anger the duck. Lucius tripped over his desk chair in trying to keep his eye on the hellish creature and get as far from it as he could. He fell, nearly catching his head on the desk, and his wand spun out of his hand and behind a cabinet. Running, Mircea was able to get between the two and she shrieked as the duck's teeth bit into her forearm. Cursing, Lucius knocked it off of her arm with a thick tome he grabbed from a shelf, which also sent her wand flying under his desk. Mircea grabbed him and shoved him into her office, slamming the door behind them just in time.

Sounds of quacking, which sounded far too sweet and commonplace for the creature they knew was making them, and scratching filled the silence as Mircea held her arm to her chest, gritting her teeth and trying to not scream. Her skin was burning and she did not know what to do about it. Lucius picked himself up off the floor assessing his own body – burned on the shoulders and a cheek, but whole – before he noticed Mircea. She was scooped up and placed on the edge of her desk, like a child at the doctor's office, before she could protest.

Lucius wrenched her arm away from her body so he could look at it more closely. In return, he felt Mircea's hand strike him across the face. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to not hit her back.

"Do not make me curse you."

He yanked her arm back to where he could see it and she resisted the urge to hit him again.

"It bloody hurts and you're yanking it about like that!"

But he ignored her. "You need Watquor Sap," he murmured. "This venom will eat through your arm. See how that _thing_ injected more in?" Mircea went whiter than his hair and he stopped talking.

"You have the most horrible bedside manner," she hissed at him as sweat beaded on her forehead. "Would you happen to have any of this sap on you?"

"No. You do though," Lucius answered, moving to her desk drawers and pulling open the lowest one. "I took the liberty of placing medi-potions kits in our desks after you tried to fry me."

"Which you fully deserved," she shot back, trying to keep from fainting. "Could you move a bit _slower_?"

Lucius squeezed a dab of pink gel onto the tip of his forefinger, keeping the tube out of sight. "Here…You need to consume this."

Mircea looked at him doubtfully and then gently took his fingertip in her mouth. Lucius was surprised at how quickly his pulse raced once he felt her tongue against his skin. Her lips were so warm and so very soft. And the pattern she wove with her tongue could drive a man out of his mind were it to be utilized correctly. Mircea's cheeks reddened a little as well as his hand curled to cup her face. She looked up at him through long lashes, just barely catching the aching look he was giving her. But a look of fury flashed over her features and before he could react she bit down hard on his fingertip. He pulled his hand away from her mouth in time to catch her as she fell forward, unconscious.

"Little harpy," he fumed as he gently lay her on the desk. "See if I don't take your arm off for that."

* * *

When Mircea woke up she could not figure out where she was. The last thing she remembered was her arm being on fire and then…

She sat up and saw Lucius sitting on the floor of her office, watching her. Mircea could feel her arm was bandaged now and no longer felt like it was full of live wires. But why had she been asleep?

"You!" she exclaimed, remembering. "What was that?!"

"You want hurried work and you'll get bad work. Easier to knock you out and do good work. And you now have the full use of your arm do you not?"

She had to admit that it seemed she did. There was a dull ache but that was nothing compared to the excruciating pain it had replaced. Mircea began to pull up the edges of the bandage but Lucius tutted at her annoyingly.

"If you can leave it alone it won't scar."

She left the bandage alone and turned her attention to the clock in her office. It was now one in the afternoon.

"How long ago did that _thing_ show up?"

"About forty minutes."

"Is it still out there?"

"Yes. It know were here and it is waiting for us."

"Surely I have a meeting or something. Someone will miss us eventually."

Lucius was smirking at her in a way Mircea did not like at all.

"What?"

"You asked me to clear your schedule today. No one will notice we are trapped with a psychotic duck unless they happen to walk by and draw it away."

"You haven't even tried to get rid of it?"

"With what?" Lucius snapped, holding his suit open for her to see he had only had the usual things on him. "My wand was knocked behind a cabinet and yours is under my desk. You're Miss 'I-Know-Dark-Magic' so you do it."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly up to it," she snarled at him, waving her arm at him. "I don't think I could _run_ if I had to. Your little stunt with drugging me didn't help that, for the record."

"So what do we do then?"

"We wait. Either until one of us decides they can fight that thing off with wandless magic or until someone comes looking for it."

"What bloody luck!" Lucius barked, but it was clear he was not yelling at her.

"Where do you think it came from?" Mircea asked, joining him on the floor, with her back against her desk.

"Experimental Charms probably," Lucius shrugged. "They've been working on animals for about a month now. Though why a _duck_ I have no idea."

"Well, apparently it worked."

They looked at each other and both of them could not help but laugh. It was ridiculous; they had been trapped in an office by a duck.

"Yes, apparently," Lucius said with a grin. It was only the second or third time she had seen that completely at ease smile and each time it made her heart flutter. "Well, there's only one thing to do."

* * *

"You terrible cheater!" Mircea laughed loudly, twenty minutes later. They both sat on the floor still, now with a deck of cards split between them. Mircea was shaking her hand from Lucius's vicious slap. They were playing Snap.

"Take those rings off, Malfoy!" she commanded regally.

"Not a chance. I haven't taken the one off since my father died and as for my wedding band…" Lucius let his words drop off and stared at his left hand. Why hadn't he taken off his wedding band? Narcissa had left him when he was in prison. True, she had died and he had mourned her, but they were no longer married when that had happened. And if she were alive, she would not be with him and she would not come back to him.

Lucius worked the ring off of his finger and tossed it across the room, without a word. Mircea watched him, wide-eyed. She hadn't meant to get such a response; she was only trying to tease him.

"Come now. You going to play or what?" Lucius grumbled, trying to direct attention away from what he had done.

Ace, two, four, Ace.

Mircea and Lucius made significant faces at one another. Neither of them wanted to lose their Aces.

Queen, Jack, Queen.

Mircea slapped the cards just seconds ahead of Lucius, but on a whim he decided there was no way he was going to settle for that verdict. Shoving her over roughly, he grabbed the cards and shuffled them into his deck.

"You!" Mircea couldn't think of any words for her amused annoyance so she simply cast a card shark charm. The cards she should have won floated out of his hand and into the air. Lucius swiped at them and they scattered across the room. Playing cards was a very serious business for two very competitive Death Eaters.

Mircea jumped up and gathered as many up as she could while Lucius did the same. Not surprisingly, the pair collided when they both turned in the opposite directions for the same card. They toppled over in different directions.

Mircea was laughing and Lucius grinned in return, scooping up the card that now lay closer to him on the floor. But he noticed red staining her bandage and he quickly became serious.

"You're hurt. Here," he led her to a chair and unwound the gauze.

Mircea saw her healing wound for the first time and was astonished. Her arm had a long trench of pink, baby-new skin where it had been filled in from the poison burns. The new skin had torn away from her arm a little and was bleeding. Lucius quickly healed the wound shut and examined his work.

"You did this yourself?" Mircea asked.

Lucius shrugged modestly, but she knew better.

"This is very impressive. Makes me feel a little bad about my patch job on your side."

Lucius smirked at her. "As you should." But his face took on a more serious expression. "I simply thought you would not like to have any further scarring. After all…" Their eyes met and the pause seemed to last an hour. "…you are lovely."

Mircea glowed pink but did not chastise him and did not break eye contact. "Thank you, Lucius."

Tentatively, her hand ran up his shoulder to cup his face. Her heart was thundering in her ears but she did not care. He had thought of her insecurities and he still found her to be lovely despite them.

The sound of an explosion from the outer office jerked them apart in an instant. Both parties turned very red and neither made eye contact, furious at the interruption. The pair flew out of the office, shoving the little man who had opened the door backwards. Another man had the duck contained in a bubble of some unknown substance that moved when the duck flew at the sides but did not give way to the animal. This man held Mircea's wand in his hand, which he had picked up from under the desk. She tore it out of his hand and aimed it at him.

The man crumpled, screaming.

"What the _hell_ was that?! I have a hole in my arm due to your ineptitude!"

The men pulled themselves to their feet and looked in one another in alarm. Finally, one of them spoke. "It got away from us. Any damages can be reported to the head of the department and you will be compensated."

"Compensated! How can you compensate me for a full day of work being thrown away? How can you compensate me for agonizing pain and scars on my arm?"

The men remained silent, pale and shaking.

"Get out," she snarled at them.

The men hurried out taking the duck with them. Without looking at Lucius, Mircea left the office, turning down a corridor, and he did not see her again that day.

* * *

Zhenya had not forgotten Lucius. Over the days following the Dragon Ball, he had learned that Lucius worked under Mircea. He had decided to follow Lucius, hoping to discover some weakness that he could use to bring him out of favor with Mircea. Clearly there could not be competition if Zhenya was to win the affections of the female Death Eater.

Hanging around the Ministry Defense block of offices, where Mirecea's office was located, he was eventually rewarded with the sight of a white-blonde head moving down a hall. The dark haired man followed at a distance.

Lucius was not aware that he was being followed. He was lost in his own thoughts. Ever since the incident with the Poisonous Duck, his desire for Mircea had grown exponentially. He did not dare act on it; there was a delicate balance that must be maintained if he wanted her to continue showing up every night. But in his mind, he could have whatever he wanted.

Zhenya saw Lucius stop in a line for reimbursements and so he stopped some distance away. What Zhenya prided himself in the most, and what he tried to keep from being too well known, was his ability to slip into people's minds unnoticed. As long as people did not know he was doing it, he was able to see the unguarded thoughts of most of the people he attempted this on. He cleared his own mind and focused on Lucius. He was sucked into a surge of hormones and desire as he entered the other wizard's mind.

_His lips brushed her collarbone and she made a breathy sound. Her skin was so soft and her long hair hung about them like a curtain as he pulled her on top of him. She buried her hands in his hair, her nails raking his scalp, and he moaned. Their lips met with haste and lust, tongues tangling hungrily. He was on top of her now and she breathed his name. "Lucius…" She unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside. He leaned forward, his stomach and chest pressed against hers, and he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her–_

Lucius jerked himself away from his fantasy. Someone was in his mind!

But he was hit with a stunning spell before he could try to find the culprit. He flew through the other witches and wizards who waited in line, his parchments scattering, until he hit the desk on the far end of the room.

Zhenya moved in before Lucius could pick himself up off the floor. He had expected something he could use to anger Mircea but this was enough to infuriate him as well. This lowly, has-been was vividly imagining screwing his boss! The inappropriateness of it made Zhenya as angry as the idea of competing with a mere secretary for this woman, and the vividness made him almost question if this were based in reality. But it could not be true. It _mustn't_ be true.

Zhenya grabbed Lucius by the collar and punched him full in the face. Lucius threw an elbow and connected with the Ukrainian's jaw, but he was much weaker than the younger and stronger man he was fighting. The next blow Lucius received made his head spin and he could feel the wetness of blood on his face.

Mircea had forgotten to give Lucius a receipt and was headed out to find him when she heard the shouts and clattering of a fight. Worry swallowed her and she ran around the corner to find the man she had met at the Dragon Ball repeatedly punching Lucius in the face. Lucius was weakly defending himself and his face was bloody. She felt her pulse skyrocket as her stomach dropped.

"Enough!" she roared and froze Zhenya's arm in midair. With a great effort, Zhenya wrenched his arm free of the spell and tossed away the battered Lucius. Mircea pushed aside a bewildered Zhenya and began to inspect Lucius's wounds. He had some serious gashes from the rings the other man wore, but he would be okay.

Their eyes met and she could see the pleading look in them. But she could no more have turned Lucius over to this brute than she could have sacrificed herself. She stood and faced Zhenya, waiting for an explanation.

He saw this as his opportunity to be heroic. "Do you know what that _thing_ was playing through his mind as he went about his business?"

Mircea's eyes darted to Lucius; from the guilty look he was giving her it was not hard to guess.

"I am sure you will enlighten me in a manner that compromises no one here," she replied dangerously.

The Ukrainian checked himself; no need to over do it or she would resent him. "He was envisioning, in great detail, a scene of a quite salacious nature between you – his superior – and himself."

"How exactly did you come across this information?"

"Occulmency."

"And you expect what? That I thank you for invading the mind of my secretary? For trying to find out any secrets in my office? For spying on me?"

"That is hardly what I was doing," he snapped, now getting defensive.

"Then what were you looking for in his mind? Is my office not worthy of the Ministry's trust now? Here." She took his hand and placed it on her head. "Read my mind. Maybe there will be something there for you to beat _me_ over."

Zhenya was furious. This had not gone the way he had expected, though it seemed obvious now that there was no real reason for him to have invaded Lucius's mind. He pulled his hand away from her head and left the room in a fury. Those that had gathered to see what was happening quickly dispersed; they didn't want to be around when Mircea dealt with Lucius.

But Mircea did not deal with Lucius. She called for a medi-witch and stayed with him until the medical team led him away. She did not speak to him and she told him to be silent if he attempted to speak.

Lucius's head spun and he kept thinking that she was waiting to kill him in his own home. He was patched up (there would be slight scarring but nothing major) and he was sent home as soon as he could stumble away. There had been more incidents with the Experimental Charms department and the medical ward was very busy. Luckily this allowed his injuries to go mostly without comment.

He managed slip through the house without attracting Draco's attention and once in his room he striped off his bloody clothes. Lucius fell into bed and was asleep in moments. He wanted nothing more than oblivion, without Mircea or Zhenya or constant danger.

When he woke, Mircea was sitting in an armchair beside his bed and staring at him intently. He opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand to silence him.

"Is what he said true?"

Lucius was not embarrassed for thinking it; he was embarrassed for getting caught. "Yes, it is."

"Then this bed sharing ends now. You clearly cannot control your mind and I cannot afford to cover for such indiscreet mistakes."

"Mircea…" He caught her hand as she rose to walk away from him. She pulled her hand out of his but not too quickly.

"It will not happen again. I swear it."

The obvious question was "the fantasies or the getting caught?" but Mircea did not ask. She did not want to know the answer. Her eyes ran over his shirtless body - scarred and pale - before moving to his scabbed and bruised face. He didn't look arrogant and proud like this; he looked small and vulnerable. He looked the way she felt.

"Lucius, it is too much. We are already in such danger and this is a fool's errand. We are only creating trouble for ourselves."

"_We _are not the problem," Lucius growled. "This ham-fisted thug is the problem."

Mircea's good sense told her to walk away, to thank Lucius for what he had done for her so far and sever all ties. That was what she had always done before and it had kept her safe. But she was sick of that.

Lucius watched her conflicting emotions, which played out on her face, and slowly took her hand in his own.

"I promise, nothing will happen to you as long as I can help it. But…" He nearly chocked on the words, but he forced himself to plunge ahead; some emotional honesty wouldn't kill him. "I need you."

And she needed him. She needed his strength and pride and steadfastness. And it was good to need and be needed like this.

Mircea sighed and then nudged him over in the bed. She climbed into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder.

"And I need you, you pompous ass."

He smirked a little, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

* * *

_The duck incident is inspired by one throwaway line in the 7__th__ book when Harry visits the Ministry. I read it and knew I had to do something with it! :-)_

_Reviews are much appreciated!_


	11. Chapter 11: Quibblers

**Chapter 11: Quibblers**

It was late October and the air had a sharp chill that promised of frost. Potter's visit to the Ministry had caused quite a stir both in the Ministry and in Malfoy Manor. Mircea had actually been in the corridor facing the atrium when she heard Yaxley yelling. She had shot off a few curses, but there was not a very clear shot from where she stood and she gave up. She saw Yaxley disappear after them in the Floo network and knew that one way or another, the Dark Lord would be at the Manor that night and she would find out how it had all ended.

The screams had been horrendous and Draco and Lucius had been forced to nurse Yaxley and several others back to health.

This had led Lucius to start drinking very heavily once again and so Mircea had taken to her own bed. She did not trust an uninhibited Lucius. But regardless, she kept an eye on him. The Dark Lord had been in and out of the Manor and they did not need Lucius to accidentally get underfoot.

It did not hurt either that he had been uncommonly affectionate with her because of the drinking. She had discovered he was a terrible flirt and that same disarming grin was now a regular occurrence. Mircea wished very much she could have met him in a different time, one where he was not so sad and fearful. Lucius rarely remembered much of what he said or did but he could feel his affection for her was steadily deepening.

Then an incident occurred that could not be ignored and Mircea was forced to recognize what had been building since they had first met one another.

* * *

Mircea poked her head into Lucius's study several days after the Potter incident to find him sitting in his high-backed leather chair and staring out the window at the stars. The sky was very clear above the Manor since it was removed from the smoke and fog of London.

Lucius heard her approaching and grinned at her. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"It is." She stopped on the opposite side of the desk smiled back. He was definitely drunk. In her limited experience, he was a pretty mellow drunk so she decided to try to coax him into going to bed. But before she could make this proposal, he reached over and grabbed her hand, tugging at her until she walked around the desk to stand beside him.

"I was once good at Astronomy," he observed, handing her his tumbler and indicating she should drink.

Mircea drank and tasted whisky. "I wasn't at all good at any of it."

Lucius nodded and finished off the glass. "I never liked it."

"Why not?"

"Who would like the reminder that there are things bigger than ourselves? That we are not in control?"

Mircea's heart wrenched a little. It was a common accusation that Malfoy had no depth, but it could not be further from the truth. She reached over and smoothed some of his hair back into its ponytail, her hand lingering against his cheek. Their eyes met and Mircea was caught off guard by what she saw in his grey eyes.

"You should go to bed, Lucius," she stated, quickly moving away from him. "Come on."

Lucius watched her for a moment. He was making her nervous. She must know then and if she knew there was no reason to hide it.

He stood and Mircea could see the moonlight highlighting a scar that cleft his eyebrow in two and another on his cheekbone: souvenirs from Zhenya's beating. Seeing them always brought a faint blush to her cheeks; it was hard to forget what he had done to 'earn' them and with this thought came a thousand feelings she wished to ignore.

It was quickly obvious that he could barely go a meter in a straight line, so Mircea had to support some of his weight, his arm around her shoulders, and guide him back to his room rather than just pointing him in the right direction.

They walked up the stairs in near silence, with Lucius keeping his burning gaze on her the entire time. Every time their eyes met, he was looking at her in a way that gave her chills. Mircea tried to break the spell that seemed to be engulfing her.

"I'll try to make up something for your hangover and leave it for you. I imagine–"

"I always promised myself I would never tell you," Lucius interrupted, pulling her to a stop. His voice was low and husky.

"Tell me what?" Mircea asked, eyes wide.

"How much I _desire_ you. How much you mean to me."

Mircea moved away from him and did not answer, but she also did not leave; she just stood there.

"Sure, your scars are, quite honestly, horrific–"

Mircea turned bright red and started to speak but he cut her off.

"But you are pale fire…warmth…safety…passion."

He walked up to her, so close that she took a step back. He closed the space again and she remained where she was. She was shaking slightly and her pupils were enormous.

"You have no idea what I would be willing to do for you. What I want to do _to you_."

Mircea could not believe her ears and thought for sure he must be able to hear how loudly her heart was pounding.

"Lucius, you don't mean this. You can't–"

She never finished the thought though. In one powerful movement, Lucius had her pressed against the wall. Grey eyes locked with dark eyes. Then his lips collided with hers.

His fierce kiss awoke her in a way only Lucius ever could have. He aggressively pulled a response from her until she was kissing him with just as much passion. His lips were needy and she fought to give everything they sought. Soon, their tongues tangled passionately, hungrily.

Lucius was hugging her tightly to him, one hand clutching her waist and the other cradling her neck. She pulled the ribbon out of his hair and entwined her fingers in his hair, nails raking his scalp. A low growl rumbled from deep in his throat and he pressed his body against her even harder. She pushed back, feeling as if she could melt into his hard, lean body.

They kissed deeply and with such feeling that Lucius knew, even though he was very drunk, that he had been right about her. She felt the same way and she wanted the same things.

And Lucius wanted _more_.

He broke away from her lips and much more slowly began to trace kisses down her neck. She gasped breathily, the same sound he had imagined so many times, and he magically unbuttoned her blouse down to her breasts.

At once alarms sounded in Mircea's mind, clearing away the fog of lust and desire. It was one thing to be necking in an isolated hall. But this was another thing entirely. Drunk sex would not, could not, end well for them.

"Lucius," she began.

He kissed the tops of her breasts, lovely in her corset, and she bit back a moan.

"Lucius, darling…"

That got his attention and he stood to his full height, meeting her eyes.

"You know what they say…drink increases desire and decreases performance. Surely another time would be more suitable for this. Would it not be tragic to awake and realize you have no memory of the experience?"

Lucius traced the curves of her face gently with his fingertips, considering her words. He wanted her and he wanted her now, but he could see in her eyes she was now closed off from him. Blue as he might be, he could never have forced her into anything.

"I suppose. But do not think for a moment this changes one word. I must have you. I want it too much."

Lucius leaned forward and gave her one more deep, heartfelt kiss. Mircea wanted so much to just give in to him, because it was clearly a last attempt to change her mind, but she could not. Their fragile relationship could not survive a regret that serious. He may believe every word he uttered in the moment, and it may even be true, but if this was not what his sober mind wanted they would never be the same.

Footsteps against the stone floor alerted them someone was coming and Mircea's buttons flew shut as quickly as they had opened.

When Draco rounded the corner, he saw his father standing in the middle of the hall looking at Mircea, who was leaning against the wall. Both were pink cheeked and had ruddy lips.

"I was trying to find my father," Draco explained, trying to assess what happened or just finished happening. "I was afraid he may not be able to make it back to his room."

"I was assisting him," Mircea explained, straightening up and walking a little further away from Lucius. "But it may be better if you do."

Lucius resumed stumbling off toward his room with a sigh and an unselfconscious tug at his trousers to adjust certain extremities. Draco's eyes narrowed as he saw this and he blocked Mircea's path quickly.

"Surely you would not take advantage of a drunk man," Draco hissed at Mircea so Lucius could not hear them.

"I don't think _I'm _the one you should be concerned about, boy," Mircea hissed back, shouldering him out of her way before hurrying off.

* * *

Lucius awoke the next morning feeling as though his head were in a vice. The lack of warmth beside him told him Mircea had slept in her own room. Probably for the best, he thought. It would be very unfortunate if he did something very stupid.

This was an active concern of his because she had been checking in on him at night and he knew he talked too much when he drank too much. If he ever did something stupid, like tell her how he truly felt about her, he was sure she would reject him. There was nothing weaker than a man caught in a one-sided love. Something flickered in his mind. He felt as if this thought rang a bell, but surely not… He forced himself to sit up though it made the room spin. He would go and breakfast with her and if she indicated he had done something unreasonable he would handle the situation as it called for.

Mircea was already eating when Lucius drug himself into the dining hall. She watched him closely, waiting to see if he would remember. She had spent a lot of time thinking about how to address this and she had decided that _if_ he did remember and _if_ he held to what he had said… she would not refuse him.

Lucius dropped heavily into his chair and smiled at Mircea ruefully. She was looking at him very closely which made him nervous.

"I seem to have overslept myself. It seems to have been a late night."

"Indeed. You were waxing poetic about the stars."

Lucius cast his mind back, trying to remember anything that matched that description but there was nothing.

"Hopefully, it was not too ghastly," he replied, gulping down coffee and pouring another cupful.

"On the contrary," was all he got in return.

"I shall assume then that anything else I may have said or done did not offend?"

Mircea's heart raced. Did he remember? Was this a way of indirectly asking her how she had felt?

"Of course not. Such sentiments could never offend."

Lucius breathed an inward sigh of relief. Then he hadn't told her how he felt. And he certainly had not acted on it.

"Good," he said with more energy. "I would hate to think I had done anything forward or ungentlemanly."

Mircea's heart fell. He did not remember. And the look he gave her as he started in on a story about an undersecretary at the Ministry told her very clearly that he suspected nothing.

"Excuse me."

She left without a word, shutting herself away in her room as soon as she was able. How stupid of her! To fall head over heels because of the ravings of a drunk! She had nearly been ready to… she did not know exactly what, but clearly she had been horribly mistaken.

Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes. She should never have let this happen to her. But it was too late. Only now did she realize that she loved him.

* * *

Late that afternoon found Lucius and Mircea wandering through the brown and empty vineyards. Mircea was less than thrilled over this arrangement – her nerves were still raw from the past 24 hours – but Lucius was still barred from being out and about on his own and she could not let him see her hurt. If nothing else, she could appreciate that this was just a chance to be outside of the stone walls of the Manor.

"Wish there was something on these vines," she mused absently, looking everywhere but at Lucius.

"There is. They're just hard to reach." Lucius gestured high on the vines, well over their heads.

"Surely with magic…"

"Oh they can be gotten," Lucius explained, gesturing absently. "But they need more time and a second harvest and it simply isn't worth it. So they hang up there for whom or whatever may want them."

Mircea had been busy most of the day and had to admit they looked tempting. Lucius's smirk caught her eye and she quirked her eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"Well… come on then. I'll give you a leg up."

Draco was extremely irate when he finally managed to locate his father in the vineyards. He had been looking for Lucius because he had been unable to find an herb he needed. After fifteen minutes searching the Manor, Draco was incensed that he had to spend so long looking for a man who was ostensibly on house arrest. A half an hour more of searching the grounds and he was ready to hex the man who had fathered him.

So when Draco walked up to see Lucius with Mircea sitting on his shoulder, reaching for some grapes, and the two of them laughing together, he lost all self control.

"The Dark Lord could appear at any moment and this what you see as the best use of your time, _father_?" Draco roared at them causing Lucius to drop Mircea and fall over.

Lucius picked himself up with impressive alacrity and Draco continued. "While some of us labor over the lives of others, you are busy nuzzling this –"

Lucius had grabbed his son by the arm and drug him a safe distance away before he finished that thought. "Is there something you wanted _other_ than attempting to tell me how I ought to behave?" Lucius snarled at his son.

"I need Violet Hornpowder and _you_ need to end this childishness now! You are an adult man!"

"I am very well aware of my age and sex."

"Too aware! You'll get us killed and all for the satisfaction of some warm body in your bed."

"This is none of your concern," Lucius barked, shaking Draco and fighting to keep Mircea from hearing him.

"Father," Draco pleaded, his tone softening, "please! My mother has only been dead for some months… and we are in enough danger as it is."

Lucius saw the pleading look in his son's eyes and guilt overwhelmed him. He did not wish to hurt his son. And Mircea had been positively distant, leading him to believe that something must have happened the night before despite what she said. Did he really want to go through all of the pain of a relationship again?

But before he could answer Draco, Mircea swept up to the two of them.

"As it is perfectly clear what is being discussed I felt I had some right to address the topic as well. Draco –," she pinned him under her gaze, "Your father and I are not involved in _any_ way." She now turned to Lucius. "And we _never_ will be. I have told him as much myself. Our relationship is limited to the ways that we mutually benefit one another. There is _nothing_ more to it." She turned back to Draco. "I am sorry to have caused you undue concern."

Draco could feel he was blushing but nodded before she quickly left the two of them. He had not meant for there to be a scene. She had meant what she said about having told Lucius as much herself.

Lucius stared after her, not speaking and trying very hard to block out the pain her words had caused. Clearly, his son was right; this was childishness. Why fix so much affection on a woman who could so callously toss him aside?

"Violet Hornpowder," he finally said, without looking at his son. He started off across the lawn only when he could no longer see Mircea.

* * *

Death Eaters sat around a table, each holding their breath and trying not to draw any attention to themselves. A question had just been asked which no one really wanted to answer: what was to be done about _The Quibbler_?

Xenophilious Lovegood was printing what the _Prophet_ had been too scared to print and what it would now never print – the truth. Something had to be done about this, something that would silence him permanently.

"We could just kill him, My Lord," Goyle offered quietly.

"Indeed we could. But he is a pureblood, no matter how filthy he has made himself, and it would be much better if he could be…reeducated."

A shiver went around the table at the word "reeducated."

"Does no one have any ideas?"

"The girl, My Lord," Bella spoke up. "She will be on the Hogwarts Express for the holidays. She can be taken then and the father's silence will buy her safety."

"Excellent, Bellatrix. Your eagerness to assist your master is always appreciated and rewarded."

Mircea was willing to swear those words had been aimed at her. Of course she had thought of the daughter. But she was above kidnapping. Or at least she had been at one point. Only when she was very much alone did she admit to herself how big of a mistake becoming a Death Eater had been.

"MacNair… Dolohov… You will seize the girl and bring her here. Surely that is simple enough?"

The two men agreed quickly, not looking up. There would be plenty of Death Eaters on the train for backup so the children were unlikely to put up much of a fight.

The meeting ended and the Death Eaters dispersed, some to corners of the house and some to their own residences. Mircea was in her room for several hours before venturing to Lucius's room. The wards were the same, allowing her in easily. He was sitting in an armchair facing the window, with a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. The window was open so the stench of smoke was much less but Mircea still wrinkled her nose.

"Enough of that!" she exclaimed, pulling the cigar out of his hand and throwing it out of the window.

"What in Merlin's–" Lucius began before the drink followed the cigar. "You think you can just walk in here and…"

He was not sober enough to easily finish this thought and so he trailed off. The glass of water in his face helped though. He jumped up, wet and cursing.

"Enough, Malfoy!" Mircea spat back at him, wand at the ready. "We need to talk."

That was never good. Whenever a woman said you needed to talk it was always bad. Lucius grabbed a towel and wiped off his face before slamming the window shut and dropping back into the chair.

"Well, Miss Elaide?"

"Lucius…you were right."

His eyes widened. "Pray tell: about what?"

"This is not right," Mircea breathed as quietly as was possible. Lucius's eyes got even bigger and Mircea began to fidget. "Your collar is not straight, Malfoy."

"My collar is just fine. What are you–"

But Mircea grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. She made a hasty pretense of fixing his collar and then slipped her arm around his neck, pulling his ear close to her mouth. A chill ran over his body and his hands mechanically went to her waist. She began to whisper directly into the shell of his ear.

"This girl… she is the age of your son."

"And she is a rebel, like her father, and has fought beside Potter willingly."

"Lucius, you are not thinking!" Mircea hissed. "He will kill her if her father does not comply. He would kill the family of anyone who opposes him. He has already tried in some cases." Lucius looked at her sharply, but that was all she was going to say about it. "We cannot save those we care about by following him into this madness."

"And to rebel against it would mean almost certain death. For us and those we wish to protect."

"But…how can you go on like this? You once joined something you believed in. Why not again?"

"I believe in nothing and no one," he breathed back in her ear. "And why do you now decide to question the ethics of all of this? The disillusionment too strong for you?"

"Don't sneer," she murmured, deliberately not looking at him. "This is nothing you have not said yourself."

"And clearly the disillusionment was too much for me. I'm a worthless broken man, a coward who is reduced to holding children hostage in his home. And for what? This is not what we asked for, and yet there is nothing we can do."

Mircea looked up at him with such sadness and such understanding and shook her head fervently. "That cannot be true," she said aloud. "I cannot believe that."

"And why not?"

"If that is the only option I will kill myself."

He could see she meant it and he did not argue. It had occurred to him many times before now.

"What, then, do you propose?"

"Watch…and wait."

* * *

Their teeny tiny conspiracy seemed to thaw the winter that had settled between them. Though the plan was to lock the girl in the cellars on their way back to London for the Christmas holidays, Mircea was back in his bed and he was no longer drinking in a way that would shave ten years off of his life. They were back to not touching one another, which strengthened Lucius's conviction something had happened that night he had been blind drunk, but she was there and she was talking to him again.

So he was surprised to see Zhenya with a hand resting against her neck and Mircea smiling up at him when he walked into his office a few days. The men eyed each other like competing lions and Mircea pulled away from the Ukrainian's touch.

"Missing a bit of eyebrow?" Zhenya asked, revealing no emotion in his face or in his voice.

"Quite," Lucius shot back just as evenly. He opened his mouth to continue, but Mircea grabbed his elbow.

"Mr. Sorokin was just leaving. We would not want to end on a bad note would we? I would hate to have to give both of you a thrashing."

Zhenya's expression soured but he backed down. "I await your answer, Mircea."

He left with a curt nod at Lucius.

The second the door closed Lucius pulled away from Mircea. "How dare you pull rank on me like that?"

"Why? You feel like losing the other eyebrow?" she snarled at him. "I would remind you, since it seems to have been beaten out of your head, that you brought that on yourself by your own carelessness. So I think I have _some_ right."

Lucius stormed to his desk, flinging stuff out of his briefcase as he spoke. "And what was that last comment about? Ask you to mate with him already?"

"Not quite."

Lucius stopped and stared at her. "What the hell does that mean?"

"He's asked me to dinner. Apologized in the most lovely terms and expressed a desire to see more of me."

"So you can breed the most perfect Dark Eastern babies the world ever saw. He's only interested in your rank and you can't possibly be interested in more than his title."

Mircea's temper flared. She had no interest at all in Zhenya but she could not stand to be talked about this way, especially by Lucius.

"As opposed to you, who only is interested in my warm body in so far as it provides a service for you. Yes, you wouldn't know anything at all about using someone like me, would you?"

Lucius blushed scarlet without meaning to. His interests were much greater than that but certainly without hearing how he really felt this was the only conclusion she could reach.

"Fine then. Go on and get your thrills with that bear. See if I care."

The words bit into Mircea and she reacted without thinking. "Fine then. I will. At least he some sees value in a horrifically scarred Easterner like me."

She slammed the door leaving him alone. The phrase 'horrifically scarred' rang in his ears. That was always how he thought of her, though usually followed by other words like 'lovely' and 'passionate.' Surely this was coincidence? Surely that was not what he had said to her when he was drunk? It was too late to ask now though, especially as he saw a purple note fly out of the door and another return about ten minutes later.

* * *

"What changed your mind, if you don't mind me asking?"

Mircea was sitting at candlelit table in an expensive Wizarding district across from Zhenya. He eyed her low backed evening dress appreciatively as she thought over her reply.

She had agreed to the date almost solely to spite Lucius. And he had been waiting by the fireplace used for Floo when she came down.

"_Still going, I see. Sure you'll have enough to talk about? Or won't it matter?" Lucius had not felt so jealous since… since he was dating Narcissa. He wanted to crush Zhenya's skull and he wanted to throw Mircea off a cliff. The first thing he was sure he could do; the second he knew would be impossible._

"_I am going. Unlike some people he is capable of treating me some kindness."_

"_I am so very sorry I don't measure up to your standards of kindness. I had rather thought you would despise being treated like a lesser creature. I have no interest in acting as such towards you."_

"_And what do you have interest in?" Mircea was giving him a chance._

_Lucius was torn. His jealousy made him feel reckless but his age held him back. "Nothing to concern yourself with."_

_Her eyes narrowed and she moved further away from him. "Then to hell with you."_

_There was a burst of green flame and she was gone._

"Mircea?"

Zhenya's voice snapped her back into the present.

"Forgive me. My secretary persuaded me to change my mind."

"That washed up old man?"

"We're the same age."

"Surely not. You do not look it." He took her hand in his and her eyes darted quickly over him. It was a bald lie; she looked every bit her age even if Lucius wore it worse than she did.

"False flattery will not get you anywhere, Mr. Sorokin," she replied evenly.

"I rather thought women appreciated that sort of thing," he answered mildly. "What would you prefer?"

"The truth." Lucius would have told her she looked old. But he also would have tempered it with some sweetness. And Lucius had never talked to her as if she were one of a faceless mass of women.

The rest of the evening passed in this manner. No matter what Zhenya said or did, Mircea would compare him mentally to Lucius. Even the most irritating aspects of Lucius were fond to the newness of this other man. She trusted Lucius and she cared for him in a way she could not with the Ukrainian across the table from her.

They both stepped through the Floo grate into the main hall of the Manor quite late that evening.

"A pleasurable time indeed, Miss Elaide," Zhenya said sweetly, kissing her hand. "May I have the pleasure of anticipating another such evening?"

"I am afraid not," Mircea said as graciously as she could, She had to let him down easily and in a way that would not spark suspicion. "I believe there are many women who would be glad for the attentions and so it would be wrong of me to lead you on."

He nodded, understandably. She had been lost in thought the entire evening so he had not held out much hope. "May I ask why?"

"I could never trust myself completely to any man. I am sorry."

He nodded again and kissed her cheek before stepping back through the Floo grate. Mircea smiled a little to herself and quickly hurried back to her room, slipping her heels off so she would be silent.

Out of the shadows, Lucius Malfoy stepped into the middle of the room. A smile played on his lips before he too went to bed.


	12. Chapter 12: Close to Death&Close to Life

**Chapter 12: Close to Death and Close to Life**

The day Draco returned from Hogwarts there was a thick wet snow. It was the very first of the year and it fell heavily, muffling all sounds outside and creating a stillness. It was the perfect cover for a private word. Lucius had been meaning to speak to his son privately, to try to learn something about him and maybe offer him some comfort.

They were very picturesque: the older man still tall, proud, and well dressed while the younger modeled him with a leaning toward more feminine distinctions. They stood still once they moved beyond the view of the house, listening to the silence that hushed everything.

Lucius searched his mind for something he could begin the conversation with. He knew Draco had always liked Severus very much and this year he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Has Severus–"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Lucius fiddled with his walking stick, his hands shaking. What could he say? He needed to reach across the void of his failures and some how touch this icy young thing next to him.

"We will get out of this, Draco," Lucius murmured to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder in a rare gesture of affection.

"I don't think I will, father."

Lucius started and looked at his son. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"It's a feeling I have," he shrugged. "That's all."

Lucius could not help but feel ashamed. It was not like his son to be so stoic, to admit the truth so openly, and here he was still trying to ignore the conviction that he was going to die.

"Is there anything at all…I could do?"

Now Draco looked stunned, his father never asked for help, advice, or any other such thing. The first thing that came to Draco's mind was "stay away from _her_" but he kept that to himself. There was no point. His father could not avoid her; Draco could see that in the way Lucius looked at her.

Draco shook his head and Lucius dropped his arm, walking away for about three meters before stopping. His shoulders slumped forward and a hand came up to his eyes. Draco realized that his father was crying, and he did not know how to respond.

Lucius turned back to his son, tears running down his haggard cheeks. "We tried," he said in a pleading tone. "We tried to give you every advantage and yet…we were _so wrong_." The last bit was said in a low whisper. "I wish you knew how much… I wish I could make it up somehow…"

"But you do not need to," Draco interrupted taking a step forward. "I know all of this. I do."

Lucius nodded and pulled himself together. He wiped his face clean of emotion and looked evenly at Draco. "Someday, should you father a child, I hope you never face these decisions. Even your best efforts may not be enough."

"I understand."

Lucius ran a hand over his son's hair and held his face for a moment before taking his hand away. They resumed walking through the still falling snow, talking of other things.

* * *

"Move, slave," Mircea barked at Wormtail. He snapped awake and stood, the only thing between herself and the cellar door where her interest lay.

The blonde girl, Xeno's child, had been captured and brought to the Manor. She had been in a terrible state. Mircea knew she had been taken from the train and it would seem she had put up a good fight if this was how she was punished.

Wormtail was in charge of the prisoners but Mircea had no qualms about moving him through whatever means necessary. But she was emotionally and physically weary and making an attempt at scaring him off was much easier.

"You have no business here," Wormtail hissed back at her, barring her way.

"I have your master's ear and I own the lord of this manor." She pushed her face into his. "Try to tell me where I should be."

His lip curled but he slunk away up the stairs. He was in a similar position to Mircea (not favored but relied on) and he had no desire to test which of them would pull rank. He stopped at the top of the stairs and was clearly not going away any further, which was fine by her. She unlocked the door and moved into the cellars.

She had only been down here a few times since she moved here six months ago. The warrens and the storerooms were down here, but this main room was mostly bare rock. The girl sat with her head on her knees and the old man, the wandmaker, was saying something to her in a very low voice. He jumped when Mircea approached but the girl only looked up at her with steady, clear eyes.

Those eyes brought her last conversation with Lucius back to her very sharply. If there were no options but this, this life of torturing children and hiding in fear, she _would_ kill herself. But she did not believe this was it.

"Stand, girl."

Luna stood. This witch could not have been any older than her father but she looked haggard and sick. It was a look many of the Death Eaters had, but something else glinted in her dark eyes.

Mircea circled the girl, looking her over for any permanent damage. It was obvious that Olivander had fixed her up, because her face was far less swollen even though it had only been a few days. But her shoulder was twisted and she held her arm very tenderly; it was dislocated at least.

"What are you doing?" Olivander began to protest, but a wand in his chest stopped him where he was.

"Silence, old man."

"Or what? You'll burn me like you burned my colleague?"

Luna caught the look in the witch's eye as she looked away from the wandmaker. It was unmistakably guilt.

"Leave her alone, Olivander," Luna said comfortingly.

When Mircea looked back it was with a mask clearly in place, but she met Luna's eyes.

"Drink this," Mircea ordered, pulling a potion from a magically deepened pocket.

"Why should she?" Olivander shouted. The spell hit him in the chest and he dropped to his knees, totally winded and no longer speaking.

"You are wiser. You have the good sense to listen, child," Mircea said to Luna.

Luna's hands shook as she drank what she had been given. It began to burn and she dropped to her knees beside the old man. There was a crack and a scream and then silence. Luna reached her arm out in front of her, wiggling fingers and joints that had previously been too swollen to use.

Mircea grabbed the potion bottle off the floor and turned to leave.

"After all this time you finally decide to take an interest in your prisoners?" the old man yelled after her.

Mircea stopped and called back over her shoulder, "We finally have one with the potential to be interesting."

Wormtail was waiting impatiently when she returned the keys to him. "So what did you want?"

"To make sure you hadn't damaged or neglected our bargaining piece. We cannot retrain the father if we maim the daughter."

In the cellars, Luna chided the wandmaker for his words.

"But why? She's a Death Eater and she wasted no time in using magic against us!"

"Something's happening in this house. I cannot guess what…"

* * *

Mircea watched Lucius as she worked on some documents for the Ministry. He was slouching in an armchair and staring out the window. He had been like this for hours. He and Draco walked the grounds on a more regular basis now but that wouldn't be for a few hours yet.

"Lucius?"

He turned toward her slowly, owlishly.

"When was the last time you…"

An eyebrow twitched. "Yes?"

"It's childish."

"Proceed."

"When was the last time you felt happy?"

He turned back to the window. "Better question would be when did I not wish I was dead."

"Lucius…"

"Don't take that tone with me," he snapped at her. "If I wanted to be dead, dead I would be. Keep your pity."

"It isn't pity. You know that."

He looked at her slowly. "And what is it?"

Mircea could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sympathy."

He leaned back in his chair, clearly not intending to speak any more. Mircea watched him for a moment before a rather sneaky but ingenious idea entered her mind.

She aimed her wand at him and murmured something very quietly. The Cheering Charm hit him in the side of the head and a smile flickered across his face before dying. She frowned and sent another.

After the fifth, she realized she had rather overdone it a bit. He was a bit giddy now and it was pretty obvious.

Draco knocked and he fairly bounded over to the door.

"Hello, son!"

Draco slammed the door shut and glowered at Mircea. "What the hell?"

"He's miserable!" she exclaimed defensively.

"So you decided _this_ was better?"

"But I feel great! What's the problem?" Lucius could not figure out why they looked so worried when he felt so light.

Draco and Mircea both ignored him, knowing their fight wasn't with him right now.

"How could you not want this?" Mircea asked imperiously. "It's not good, it's not _healthy_, to be so listless."

"I don't want _anything_ to do with _you _and I _wish_ he felt the same! He does _not_ need you and you've only made things worse since you come here!"

This exclamation hit the room like a thunderclap. Mircea paled a little and Draco looked like he could not believe the words had actually come out of him; they had been on the tip of his tongue for months.

"But Draco…" Lucius cut in. Mircea's Cheering Charms were still controlling Lucius but he could feel the stormy shift in the room.

"Are you coming or are you staying, father? I'm going with or without you."

Lucius's eyes darted over to Mircea but she would not look at him. She was bright red and crumpling parchment in her fists. He wanted to stay with her but she looked as though she only intended to ignore him.

"I'm coming, Draco. Don't worry. All this anger for nothing. Come on now!"

Draco stormed out of the room and Lucius followed with a bounce in his step. The door closed and Mircea balled her fists into her mouth and screamed out her anger. Why did nothing ever go the way it should. How could she mess up _everything_?

* * *

The Cheering Charm backfired still further however.

Mircea nearly killed him when Lucius began to scream in the night. In his sleep induced fog, he shoved Mircea so roughly she fell completely out of the bed. Mircea scrambled to her feet, worried that a nightmare-fueled rampage would give them away completely. She began to go for some water when his words stopped her in her tracks.

"NO!" he shrieked. "Spare her! I beg you!" He thrashed about at unseen foes and managed to get his hands on his wand.

Mircea knew without any doubt who the _her_ was and she acted instinctively. She pulled the wand from his hand, accidentally gashing his arm with her nails. The pain brought him out of his dream and his eyes rolled wildly.

She held his face in her hands, her eyes wide with concern, trying to anchor him down in the real waking world. His eyes finally locked with hers and she could see him taking in the sight of her face, alive and full of worry. A shudder passed through his entire body and she caught him as he slumped forward, holding his head against her chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her and she sat on the bed as she felt tears pour from his eyes and onto her bare skin.

After calming, he pulled back to look up at her. He felt so raw and his heart ached. It had been too real but she was here now and she was holding him close.

Mircea smoothed the hair out of his eyes. His face was so haggard and so true. She knew, looking into the steely depths of his eyes, that he did love her. And in a moment of pure impulse, she closed the distance between their lips.

Lucius froze, unsure how or if he should react. But she pressed herself against him and so he gave in to her. Laying back, he pulled her on top of him and kissed her with all of the fiery tension that had been building between them.

A soft moan escaped her lips, nearly driving him out of his mind. He clutched her to himself and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Mircea jerked away from him as she felt his calloused hand slide beneath her shirt. As she rolled out of bed and moved away several steps, she saw his expression was hazy with many things: sleep, confusion, lust. But this was stupid. What did it matter if he loved her? They would be killed no matter what. Why make it harder by becoming lovers?

Lucius could see her shutting off from him and he was not surprised when she disappeared without a word. Hurt and frustrated beyond belief, but not surprised.

* * *

The very next evening there was a meeting. The Dark Lord was absent more often than he was present in the manor now which was a small blessing. It gave Mircea time to work out something she could suggest, something that might help with her position among the Death Eaters.

"The boy is likely to go looking for more information about Albus if he is on some sort of quest the old man left him. He would have to go to Bathilda, especially after Rita's recent publication."

"What are you suggesting, Mircea?"

The way he said her name made her shiver. "Could not your snake lay in wait for them? The boy is Parseltounge and would never sense the difference."

"Quite clever. But it is only a few days from Christmas."

"What better time to visit his childhood home? One he has not been to in many years."

"Very good… Pious seems to believe that a Christmas Ball at the Ministry is in order. Is this an idea generated by your department?"

Mircea could feel her face getting redder as she thought about what she had to say next.

"Yes, My Lord. Such plans carry on the past and set traditions for the future. It inspires a sense of forethought and longevity."

"You did not strike me as a frivolous witch, Mircea."

She remained silent. She wanted to scream that she was not but she bit her tongue.

"Very well. A Ball there shall be. Now, Severus…"

* * *

"Happy Christmas Eve, Persephone."

It was one of the first times that the pair had spoken since they had kissed. They both remembered it this time and it was almost palpable between them whenever they were alone. Lucius's eyes burned with desire and recklessness and Mircea could not hide her need and affections.

"Happy Christmas Eve."

She turned to leave quickly but he grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. She could smell his wonderful cologne and a reassuring absence of alcohol or tobacco. He placed his lips lightly against her ear, sending chills down her spine.

"I have something I must tell you."

"No, Lucius," she breathed. "Remember your son."

"Should I fail in this I will regret it until I am dead, and possibly long after."

But steps were heard coming towards them and Mircea tore herself away from him with a look of terror. She knew those steps by heart. She shoved Lucius roughly into a closet and stood alone in the hall.

Lucius could only see the Dark Lord by his cloak and pale skin through a very slight gap. Goosebumps crawled across his skin at the tone Voldemort directed at Mircea.

"It did not work, witch! Your plans have failed me for the last time!"

"My Lord, if I could only remind you of the Ministry–"

But her words ended in a horrific scream and Lucius was trapped. He could not possibly go to her without worsening the situation, but there was no way for him to escape. So he watched through a crack in the door. He watched her fall, writhe, and bleed. He watched her beaten, cursed, and slashed. She screamed until her voice was gone. Only then was she given rest.

Voldemort stood over her body, breathing heavily. Her screaming had drawn some of the Death Eaters out of the corners of the Manor and they all watched from the shadows. Lucius watched to see if she stirred and she did not; there was no sign of life to her at all.

"Leave this wreck for an elf to clean up. But she is to be in working order by tomorrow evening. We wouldn't want her to miss the festivities now would we?"

Lucius waited for a full five minutes after all the footsteps disappeared before he dove out of the closet. Mircea lay in a bundle of black tattered robes, raw skin, and blood. Patches of hair decorated the hall here and there, with an occasional blood spray painting the stone walls. Voldemort had spared no punches with her and Lucius knew she was only alive because Voldemort had allowed her to live.

"Hizzy!"

The little elf appeared and gave a scream at the sight of Mircea.

"Hizzy!" he roared, shaking the little creature. "You must staunch her bleeding!"

Hizzy looked at the woman and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Master Lucius had always been very bad to her. And now these Death Eaters were even worse. He could command her but receiving clothes would be a relief with things they were now. But this woman was his love…

Hizzy snapped her long fingers and the wounds shut.

"Find my son."

The little elf nodded and disappeared. Lucius scooped Mircea into his arms and began to stumble down the hallway with her. He was about half way to her rooms when Draco caught up with him. The boy let off a long list of profanities before helping his father carry her to her room. As soon as they reached the room though, Lucius was banished.

"Have some common sense will you!" Draco finally bellowed at him. "Right now your very presence endangers her! Can't you see that, or do you not care?"

So Lucius found himself alone in his rooms, fighting the urge to work his way through a bottle of anything he could lay hand to. They really may not survive. Mircea's good standing had been enough to bolster them but now she was falling out of favor, just as they all would eventually. They could keep saying they would wait for a better time, but they had no time. One of them could die the very next day and all they would have was regret. And Lucius Malfoy had enough regret to last a lifetime.

* * *

Mircea woke with a young version of the man she loved hanging over her.

"Lucius?"

"No. Me."

She could hardly think and she felt as though she had died.

"What happened to me?"

"You were punished for the failure of your plan to catch Potter. You are lucky to be alive."

"Lucky…" her voice cracked as she said the word and tears gathered in her eyes. "Oh, let me die!"

"No."

"And why not? You would lose no sleep over that."

"My father..." He handed her a huge potion. "Drink this."

She drank and began to run her hands over her skin moving toward her face and head.

Draco grabbed her hands and forced them down onto the bed. "Don't. Not yet."

"How bad…?"

"I'm doing my best. Just…don't look and don't touch. We have half a day, my healing, and my father's potions. I have to rest. I'll be back in two hours."

"Draco…thank you."

He nodded tersely at her and left.

* * *

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you, brother."

Lucius followed Bellatrix weakly. _She's dead. She's died. _The words filled every corner of his mind like dense smoke.

Voldemort was sitting the long dining room table and indicated Lucius was to sit at the other end of the table from him.

"Lucius, it would appear that I was misguided in my attempts to use Mircea. I thought her a capable witch but I was wrong. You are released from her guardianship. Should she survive, you will be her equal. Feel free to repay her in whatever manner you see fit."

"Th-th-thank you, my lord," he managed to stammer.

"Prepare yourself for the night. We must make a good presence."

Lucius nodded and hurried away. This was the best news he could have hoped for. They no longer had to pretend to be in competition with one another. While there was no doubt their romance would still be harshly punished this was a small ray of light in a very dark situation.

Lucius began to draw a bath as soon as he reached his room. He must look his very best. It was Christmas and it was a night for magic.

* * *

_Sorry I disappeared! But I'm back! _

_Reviews please! :-)_


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